How moronic can this administration get? How dumb do they think we are?
Chertoff downplays terrorist nuclear threat
From the story:
LONDON - Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff is downplaying the idea of a nuclear attack by terrorists after recent postings on al-Qaida-affiliated Web sites exhorted militants to pursue weapons of mass destruction for use against the U.S.
So if Iran and Iraq swear up and down that they're not developing WMDs and not threatening us, then we'd better attack them. But if someone actively encourages others to attack us using WMDs, then that's nothing to worry about.
Do you see the politics yet?
Let's stop allowing these government fucks to manipulate us in the incredibly stupid ways that they do. I'm not a flag waver, but it's embarrassing as a country to have lived in fear for the last seven years. The Israelis deal with terrorist attacks all the time. The English dealt with them for decades. We get one good bloody nose and we throw America away for the agenda of an administration that has done more damage to this country than any terrorist could have.
We're less safe then we were on 9/11. Nobody checks shipping containers coming into the country. Our actions have greatly increased the amount of terrorists in the world. Our government not only gave the bin Laden family a ride home on one of the only jets allowed to fly after the towers went down, but they've fixed it so that the Saudis who bankroll the terrorists are getting the money from us. The list goes on and on. And yet we haven't been attacked again.
We're going to look back on the dawning of the millennium in shame for what we allowed to happen. Now is the time to put fear behind us and to act like we're not the most mentally deficient country on the block. Let's do the right things to move forward through education, peacemaking and compassion for our fellow human beings. Let's take back our freedom and do everything we can to prevent our people from acting so humiliatingly stupid again.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Friday, May 30, 2008
June 24th!
Found this on i09 and SF Signal:
Futurama: The Beast With a Billion Backs. Oh, Baby!
In other news, I'm sending what will probably be story 69 out to first readers. I'll let you know when the sexiest milepost is achieved.
Futurama: The Beast With a Billion Backs. Oh, Baby!
In other news, I'm sending what will probably be story 69 out to first readers. I'll let you know when the sexiest milepost is achieved.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Stuck On An Escalator
If they can put a man on the moon . . .
Then why can't they put a man on the moon anymore?
And this:
Then why can't they put a man on the moon anymore?
And this:
Monday, May 26, 2008
Conan On Audio (The Cimmerian, Not The Late Night Guy)
I was quite pleased to discover last night that BrokenSea Audio Productions has seen fit to bring some of Robert E. Howard's Conan stories to life on audio. Free audio! Give it a go: http://brokensea.com/conan/
Howard is my favorite writer. Not on literary merit, to be sure. The reason he's number one is that he was able to make black ink combine with pulp paper in such a way that it pulses in your hands. Roll up those sleeves because the passion spills over the edges of the page. Howard wrote with fire and fury and didn't give a damn about refinement or the liberal use of adjectives.
Caveats (Now that you've already gone and clicked on the link): Howard was a racist. He was a small town Texan writing during the depression era. That he was a racist shouldn't come as too much of a shock. You'll hear that worldview spill over into some of his stories. Where it does, I don't see it as particularly vicious, but some of you may be offended.
Also, though I've downloaded them, I haven't listened to these yet myself. I tried a few seconds worth just to make sure they weren't selling timeshares instead of reading Conan stories. The bit I listened to seems to have been narrated by either Randy "Macho Man" Savage or some other wrestling/surfer dude. Whoever he is, he's into it.
I have read both of these stories. Of the two stories so far posted "Red Nails" is by far the more powerful. There's something dread and claustrophobic about the whole thing that made me put my book down a couple of times and take in deep gulps of air. It's definitely one of the darkest Conan stories I've ever experienced.
Take up your sword, gulp your own air and dive straight into the heart of Hyboria.
Howard is my favorite writer. Not on literary merit, to be sure. The reason he's number one is that he was able to make black ink combine with pulp paper in such a way that it pulses in your hands. Roll up those sleeves because the passion spills over the edges of the page. Howard wrote with fire and fury and didn't give a damn about refinement or the liberal use of adjectives.
Caveats (Now that you've already gone and clicked on the link): Howard was a racist. He was a small town Texan writing during the depression era. That he was a racist shouldn't come as too much of a shock. You'll hear that worldview spill over into some of his stories. Where it does, I don't see it as particularly vicious, but some of you may be offended.
Also, though I've downloaded them, I haven't listened to these yet myself. I tried a few seconds worth just to make sure they weren't selling timeshares instead of reading Conan stories. The bit I listened to seems to have been narrated by either Randy "Macho Man" Savage or some other wrestling/surfer dude. Whoever he is, he's into it.
I have read both of these stories. Of the two stories so far posted "Red Nails" is by far the more powerful. There's something dread and claustrophobic about the whole thing that made me put my book down a couple of times and take in deep gulps of air. It's definitely one of the darkest Conan stories I've ever experienced.
Take up your sword, gulp your own air and dive straight into the heart of Hyboria.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Movie Sexy Bloody-Nosed Rejectedness
Took the family to see Indiana Jones today. It was good, ridiculous, fun and enjoyment was had by all. Go see it.
Just watched The Case of Howard Phillips Lovecraft. It’s not exactly the biography that one might expect. I don’t think the word "Cthulhu" was once mentioned, for instance. It’s an odd film, short, bordering on abstract and has inspired a few scathing reviews on Netflix. I’m not sorry I saw it, but I would also like to see a more traditional documentary on the man and his work. I don’t think one exists.
I found myself aroused while watching this film, not because of anything to do with the film but because of stray thoughts that happened to occur at the same time and then I found my nose was bleeding. I thought this only happens in anime. I found it slightly amusing. Is there some reason for lust-inspired bloody noses? Do tell.
I just received what might have been the fastest rejection of my life. Story rejection, I mean. One hour and forty-three minutes. So fast it felt like a kick in the stomach. Haven’t felt that in a while. I’d blame the nose on that but the bleeding came before the rejection.
Hope you’re all doing well out there. My head is freshly shaved and I’m feeling content for a brief moment. It’ll pass. Please comment on anything you see here and subscribe so you don’t miss a moment of Matt filled goodness.
Just watched The Case of Howard Phillips Lovecraft. It’s not exactly the biography that one might expect. I don’t think the word "Cthulhu" was once mentioned, for instance. It’s an odd film, short, bordering on abstract and has inspired a few scathing reviews on Netflix. I’m not sorry I saw it, but I would also like to see a more traditional documentary on the man and his work. I don’t think one exists.
I found myself aroused while watching this film, not because of anything to do with the film but because of stray thoughts that happened to occur at the same time and then I found my nose was bleeding. I thought this only happens in anime. I found it slightly amusing. Is there some reason for lust-inspired bloody noses? Do tell.
I just received what might have been the fastest rejection of my life. Story rejection, I mean. One hour and forty-three minutes. So fast it felt like a kick in the stomach. Haven’t felt that in a while. I’d blame the nose on that but the bleeding came before the rejection.
Hope you’re all doing well out there. My head is freshly shaved and I’m feeling content for a brief moment. It’ll pass. Please comment on anything you see here and subscribe so you don’t miss a moment of Matt filled goodness.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Pork and Beans
You should watch the new Weezer video just because it's a great song, but you may also like the references to a slew of viral videos:
For those of you who don't sit and stare at youtube for seventeen hours a day, here's a little page from Valleywag that points out the videos within the video:
http://valleywag.com/392972/weezer-undestands-how-to-work-youtube
For those of you who don't sit and stare at youtube for seventeen hours a day, here's a little page from Valleywag that points out the videos within the video:
http://valleywag.com/392972/weezer-undestands-how-to-work-youtube
Friday, May 23, 2008
Hulk Write Own Game Review
Hulk take in Broadway musical to calm nerves:
http://www.gamespot.com/xbox360/action/theincrediblehulk/news.html?sid=6191122&mode=recent
http://www.gamespot.com/xbox360/action/theincrediblehulk/news.html?sid=6191122&mode=recent
Vermit
Warning: Rated G for Gross
VERMIT
By Matthew Sanborn Smith
“It’s called vermit,” Danny offered, “Not vomit. When you throw up a bunch of frogs like that, I mean.”
I didn’t care what it was called. I just wanted to get this taste out of my mouth. I blew my nose again, so hard I thought I’d have a stroke right there on the salesroom room floor. It didn’t do any good. I still felt one of them wriggling around in my sinuses.
“Those are pollywogs,” Carol said, pointing the toe of her shoe at my puke.
“Still vermit,” Danny said. “You been eatin’ tadpoles, Marcus?”
“It’s the curse,” I said. I shuddered. My nose burned and dripped with . . . Snot? Bile?
The salesman edged ever closer. Royal blue shirt and stars and stripes tie. Still figuring out how to deal with us and my mess.
I waved him closer. “C’mon over. Watch your step. I apologize. I’ll be happy to clean it up. I don’t s’pose you guys sell wet vacs?”
“No sir.”
“It’s my wife,” I said, which made him look at Carol. “No. That’s not a wife, that’s Carol.” Carol kneed me, almost sending me face first into my own biological spill. I regained my balance but not without putting my right boot into it. The little squiggles had stopped swimming around in there, at least. “Wife’s some kinda Super-Wiccan or something, I don’t know. Cursed me this morning.”
This he understood. He had those tired, baggy eyes that explained him. “Going through a divorce?”
“Man, I wish. Nah, I just forgot to put my clothes in the machine last night.”
He nodded. “Say no more. I’ll get paper towels and a garbage bag.”
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Clem Crowder's Catch
If you guys have a little time on your hands I urge you to read Clem Crowder's Catch. It's up for just this month at Fantasy and Science Fiction's website. I read it five years ago when it first appeared in the print version of the magazine and let me tell you folks, it will easily stay with you for five years and probably beyond. It's funny, fucked up, and wonderfully disgusting. Please check it out:
http://www.sfsite.com/fsf/fiction/reprint01.htm
http://www.sfsite.com/fsf/fiction/reprint01.htm
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
How The Republicans Are Keeping Us Safe
Here are two consecutive articles posted on BoingBoing today that illustrate how our leaders are protecting us from terrorists. Make what you will of them:
Van driven onto Sea-Tac runway. Nobody notices, cares. http://www.boingboing.net/2008/05/21/van-driven-onto-seat.html
FBI looking for vegan potluck terrorists http://www.boingboing.net/2008/05/21/fbi-looking-for-vega.html
Van driven onto Sea-Tac runway. Nobody notices, cares. http://www.boingboing.net/2008/05/21/van-driven-onto-seat.html
FBI looking for vegan potluck terrorists http://www.boingboing.net/2008/05/21/fbi-looking-for-vega.html
My August 19th
John Scalzi ran himself a contest on his heavily-trafficked blog, Whatever, last week. In it, he asked his adherents to describe the events of August 19, 1994. To make it short, I didn't win. To make it longer, here's my entry:
It was a bright night, August 19, 1994. Two moons worth of bright, owing to that same mirror in the sky that made Gemini spring into quadruplets. My son was just eighteen months old and I remember holding his tubby body up close to my face while we waved upward. We couldn’t see ourselves up there but we greeted us just the same. The whole neighborhood had spilled all over the street, impromptu barbecues and cheap fireworks going up all around us. We’d gotten the Independence Day we’d missed a month and a half before because the damned city said wildfire risks were too high with the drought.
It was a night of miracles. Every fifth dog burst into life-affirming green flames. Through the neighbor’s window we saw Clinton’s speech for the fifth time that day. Behind dusty slats he declared that our war with Uzbekistan was over and tomorrow was to be a spaghetti holiday. Hell, at that point I didn’t care that he was in bed with Big Semolina. The draft notices we’d just received that day for my only boy and his unconceived sister were now null and void.
Although the celebrations went on for many hours all over the world, the night ended for us when creepy Tommy Marcella whacked the kids’ piñata, a rainbow colored pony, with his aluminum baseball bat. Stronger than that bat was the half-hour of frustration behind it. Seventeen-kids-and-one-yellow-broomstick-,-brown-where-the-paint-had-chipped-off-the-end’s worth of frustration. Eight and half sugar-jonesing child-hours of frustration and the power of one hormone-squirting, shadow-mustached man-child fell behind that silver and black Louisville Slugger.
The rainbow pony burst. And where candy was expected, intestines poured out onto the cracked grey pavement. The clot of pre-adolescent bodies shattered into its constituent screaming parts, littering the bloody scene with dozens of hyphens in their wakes.
John Butts suggested we make sausage. We laughed a little but the party had gone out of us at that point. But for an occasional shout or crackle of salutes in the distance, the quiet had descended upon us. There were a few lingerers who didn’t know until it grew uncomfortable that good times ever ended. The rest sought their beds, only now realizing that there was work the next day, spaghetti be damned. My joy was mellowed but persistent. In the warm glow of Mrs. Demers’ Scottish Terrier, Poopie, I kissed my wife. I even kissed her husband (closed mouth for Barry, though).
Everything since then has seemed so ordinary in comparison.
It was a bright night, August 19, 1994. Two moons worth of bright, owing to that same mirror in the sky that made Gemini spring into quadruplets. My son was just eighteen months old and I remember holding his tubby body up close to my face while we waved upward. We couldn’t see ourselves up there but we greeted us just the same. The whole neighborhood had spilled all over the street, impromptu barbecues and cheap fireworks going up all around us. We’d gotten the Independence Day we’d missed a month and a half before because the damned city said wildfire risks were too high with the drought.
It was a night of miracles. Every fifth dog burst into life-affirming green flames. Through the neighbor’s window we saw Clinton’s speech for the fifth time that day. Behind dusty slats he declared that our war with Uzbekistan was over and tomorrow was to be a spaghetti holiday. Hell, at that point I didn’t care that he was in bed with Big Semolina. The draft notices we’d just received that day for my only boy and his unconceived sister were now null and void.
Although the celebrations went on for many hours all over the world, the night ended for us when creepy Tommy Marcella whacked the kids’ piñata, a rainbow colored pony, with his aluminum baseball bat. Stronger than that bat was the half-hour of frustration behind it. Seventeen-kids-and-one-yellow-broomstick-,-brown-where-the-paint-had-chipped-off-the-end’s worth of frustration. Eight and half sugar-jonesing child-hours of frustration and the power of one hormone-squirting, shadow-mustached man-child fell behind that silver and black Louisville Slugger.
The rainbow pony burst. And where candy was expected, intestines poured out onto the cracked grey pavement. The clot of pre-adolescent bodies shattered into its constituent screaming parts, littering the bloody scene with dozens of hyphens in their wakes.
John Butts suggested we make sausage. We laughed a little but the party had gone out of us at that point. But for an occasional shout or crackle of salutes in the distance, the quiet had descended upon us. There were a few lingerers who didn’t know until it grew uncomfortable that good times ever ended. The rest sought their beds, only now realizing that there was work the next day, spaghetti be damned. My joy was mellowed but persistent. In the warm glow of Mrs. Demers’ Scottish Terrier, Poopie, I kissed my wife. I even kissed her husband (closed mouth for Barry, though).
Everything since then has seemed so ordinary in comparison.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Take A Seat On The Sofa
Check out the John Scalzi episode of StarShipSofa podcast, just posted today. On it, Tony reads my review of the Android's Dream. www.starshipsofa.com
Take Flight
This bit from episode eight of Flight of the Conchords is the sole reason my son took French this year:
Monday, May 19, 2008
Did I Say Sunshine? I Meant Stinkshine
Okay, it wasn't that bad, but it wasn't good. Sunshine was a beautiful movie to look at. In fact I would much rather have seen it in a theater, but it was in and out of the local palaces too quickly for my retail-scheduled ass. There were too many stupid things going on in this film, too many stupid people and some questionable engineering. Add this to the pile of might-have-beens, on top of Supernova (But I still love you, Angela Bassett!), Event Horizon, Mission to Mars and countless others. Even if it had been on my shoulders it would not have made me happy.
My First Purple Moon
The full moon was dark purple just a half hour ago in the smoke from the Florida wildfires. It was only slightly brighter than the pre-dawn sky around it as if nature experienced a brown-out. To my knowledge there are no fires within fifty miles, but they are on three sides of us. When the when blows from any direction but that of the Atlantic Ocean, we smell smoke and have for more than a week now. Little man, in the form of a handful of arsonists, has colluded with dry and windy nature to create something powerful and newsworthy and home-destroying.
I get a purple moon.
I get a purple moon.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
The World's Biggest Waterslide, Day Three
THE WORLD’S BIGGEST WATERSLIDE, DAY THREE
By Matthew Sanborn Smith
Everything washes down. I’m grateful for that. The vomit, the corpses, the piss and shit. It all flows ever forward through the wide and endless fiberglass loops. Washing down and away from me.
It’s an endurance test. I’m covered in Shar-Pei wrinkles, between the oil my body is losing and the loosening skin of my starving frame. I’m drinking chlorinated water that a billion bodies have slid through. I’m hungry as hell. If someone doesn’t throw me a sandwich, I’ll never make it for four more days, never mind four more weeks. They said the slide would alleviate the population problems. I thought they meant by keeping one third of humanity off of the Earth at all times. Now I realize they meant by voluntary extermination.
But Oh My God, this is fun! This is why the space elevator was created!
By Matthew Sanborn Smith
Everything washes down. I’m grateful for that. The vomit, the corpses, the piss and shit. It all flows ever forward through the wide and endless fiberglass loops. Washing down and away from me.
It’s an endurance test. I’m covered in Shar-Pei wrinkles, between the oil my body is losing and the loosening skin of my starving frame. I’m drinking chlorinated water that a billion bodies have slid through. I’m hungry as hell. If someone doesn’t throw me a sandwich, I’ll never make it for four more days, never mind four more weeks. They said the slide would alleviate the population problems. I thought they meant by keeping one third of humanity off of the Earth at all times. Now I realize they meant by voluntary extermination.
But Oh My God, this is fun! This is why the space elevator was created!
Friday, May 16, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Sugar Water
This video was my first exposure to Cibo Matto many years ago. On the way home from work today I was listening to Viva! La Woman. It's gotten better since I last listened. Anyway, I thought back to the video, which is extremely cool in its own right (It bears a second viewing to catch everything), and I thought I'd share it with both of you. Please enjoy:
(Steve tells me he can't view it. If you can't either, here's the youtube link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jNA6zzoObxg)
I do love me some Miho!
(Steve tells me he can't view it. If you can't either, here's the youtube link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jNA6zzoObxg)
I do love me some Miho!
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
I'm All Twittered Up
Look to the left and slightly down. No, I mean on the screen. You'll see my Twitter updates. I swore I wouldn't do Twitter, that it was a dumb waste of time and I already spend way too much time online when I should be writing.
But I did it.
How long before I break down and type the words "masturbating furiously?"
But I did it.
How long before I break down and type the words "masturbating furiously?"
Monday, May 05, 2008
L'animateur
Has Richard Dawkins or Pat Robertson seen this? Because it explains everything. http://www.koreus.com/video/animateur.html
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Sing The Iron Man Song
I saw Iron Man today. It was a good film and faithful to the spirit of the comic. Robert Downey Jr. is fantastic. It's so nice to see a superhero movie where you don't feel like the actors are just reading lines. The movie is going to reach a lot of eyes and I hope it encourages kids to look into engineering later in life.
Many years ago I wrote some Iron Man lyrics to the tune of the old 1960s Spider-Man cartoon (before that shitty Bio-Dome movie tried to do the same). For your enjoyment:
Iron Man, Iron Man
Does whatever an iron can
Plug him in anywhere
Wear your clothes like you really care
Steam on!
Here comes the Iron Man
If it's permanent press
Press your favorite dress
If it's cotton or wool
He's so hot, he's so cool!
Iron Man, Iron Man
Friendly neighborhood Iron Man
Plug him in, press your pants
Man, those wrinkles don't stand a chance
Steam on!
Wherever there's some static
You find your clothes erratic
Turn on the Iron Man!
Many years ago I wrote some Iron Man lyrics to the tune of the old 1960s Spider-Man cartoon (before that shitty Bio-Dome movie tried to do the same). For your enjoyment:
Iron Man, Iron Man
Does whatever an iron can
Plug him in anywhere
Wear your clothes like you really care
Steam on!
Here comes the Iron Man
If it's permanent press
Press your favorite dress
If it's cotton or wool
He's so hot, he's so cool!
Iron Man, Iron Man
Friendly neighborhood Iron Man
Plug him in, press your pants
Man, those wrinkles don't stand a chance
Steam on!
Wherever there's some static
You find your clothes erratic
Turn on the Iron Man!
Saturday, May 03, 2008
67
Early this morning I sent out my story Brothers and Sisters All and I just realized that this counts as number 67. Even though it was posted on this blog about a year and a half ago, I sent it to someone who is okay with reprints and so, by the rules I set for myself long ago, this story counts.
Yay.
Yay.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
SFSignal
I was asked to participate in SF Signal's latest Mind Meld in which we discussed the best and worst endings in a science fiction or fantasy book. Check out the results here: http://www.sfsignal.com/archives/006612.html
In unrelated news, there is a stink in my house and I have not yet discovered its source. I'm hoping it's not the old "dead animal in the walls" trick.
I hate that one.
In unrelated news, there is a stink in my house and I have not yet discovered its source. I'm hoping it's not the old "dead animal in the walls" trick.
I hate that one.
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