He's batshit crazy. Around the bend. Cuckoo for Cocoa-Puffs.
I offer this as evidence of his mental state: eco-freaks and right-wing radicals salad, drizzled with immenent doom, and served with crunchy crackers.
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| Kruggers, unwound |
Showing posts with label fantasy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fantasy. Show all posts
Monday, April 1, 2013
Paul Krugman Is Insane
There. I said it.
He's batshit crazy. Around the bend. Cuckoo for Cocoa-Puffs.
I offer this as evidence of his mental state: eco-freaks and right-wing radicals salad, drizzled with immenent doom, and served with crunchy crackers.
He's batshit crazy. Around the bend. Cuckoo for Cocoa-Puffs.
I offer this as evidence of his mental state: eco-freaks and right-wing radicals salad, drizzled with immenent doom, and served with crunchy crackers.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Books And More Books!
Feast your eyes on NPR's 100 best sci-fi/fantasy books. Leading the list: Lord of the Rings, followed by The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Hey, it's NPR...what did you expect? The Martian Chronicles to be in the top ten? Pfft.
Some of the books on the list are boring and predictable. I'm not sure I would have included Jordan's The Wheel of Time series (I'll come to your house and cook you dinner if you made it through all of them without your brain turning to mush), nor would I have including anything by King, because his stuff is horror, not fantasy or sci-fi.
My unsolicited opinion? The Mists of Avalon by Bradley slides in at #42, but it's an excellent read. McCaffrey's dragon books are also very, very good. The Outlander series by Gabaldon starts off great, but fizzles in later installments. The Sword of Shannara by Brooks is a first-rate series that I thoroughly enjoyed; it's light, fun reading.
Anything by Heinlein is food for the brain. Dune? Yes. 'Nuff said. And just because the NPR folks forgot who pioneered the genre, here's a raised glass to a sci-fi master:
H/T: Vox Popoli
Some of the books on the list are boring and predictable. I'm not sure I would have included Jordan's The Wheel of Time series (I'll come to your house and cook you dinner if you made it through all of them without your brain turning to mush), nor would I have including anything by King, because his stuff is horror, not fantasy or sci-fi.
My unsolicited opinion? The Mists of Avalon by Bradley slides in at #42, but it's an excellent read. McCaffrey's dragon books are also very, very good. The Outlander series by Gabaldon starts off great, but fizzles in later installments. The Sword of Shannara by Brooks is a first-rate series that I thoroughly enjoyed; it's light, fun reading.
Anything by Heinlein is food for the brain. Dune? Yes. 'Nuff said. And just because the NPR folks forgot who pioneered the genre, here's a raised glass to a sci-fi master:
H/T: Vox Popoli
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Well, That Didn't Take Long
The President of the Canadian Arab Federation spreads conspiracy theory that Norway attack was Israel’s handiwork.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Literary interlude: Ziggurat
The new girl sat at the computer in the corner playing Ziggurat, Panic!, and U-Turn. This was in the pine-panelled section of the Labyrinth, which is where the Minotaur had been hanging out lately, mainly because he didn’t remember ever having been there before, and he liked sleeping on the pool table.
The new girl was smaller than most of the others. Peanut-colored. Her shoulders shook. Her fingers twitched on the computer keys, making noises like munching rodents. Her eyes were filled with rhomboids of white, then blue, then red. Yellow. Then red again. Lots of red. And they were separated by two wrinkles that said to the Minotaur, Go away! I’m too busy for you!
It is true that the Minotaur was very strong and that his head was nearly as wide as his shoulders. But in fact he didn’t really look like a bull. He had no horns, no ring through his nose. He was just very, very ugly. His lips were fat and earthworm pink, his eyes were asymmetrical, and his eyebrows were like forests of black wire. The same with the hair on his head, and on his cheeks—which was indistinguishable from the hair on his body. He didn’t walk like a normal person; he lumbered. That was just the way he was born.
All of the other girls had run when they saw the Minotaur. The women, too, and the boys. Some of the men had tried to fight—not that it mattered. The end had always been the same: the Minotaur patting his belly, pulling a sucked femur from his slick lips. But no one had ever been too busy.
Read the rest of the text here.
The new girl was smaller than most of the others. Peanut-colored. Her shoulders shook. Her fingers twitched on the computer keys, making noises like munching rodents. Her eyes were filled with rhomboids of white, then blue, then red. Yellow. Then red again. Lots of red. And they were separated by two wrinkles that said to the Minotaur, Go away! I’m too busy for you!
It is true that the Minotaur was very strong and that his head was nearly as wide as his shoulders. But in fact he didn’t really look like a bull. He had no horns, no ring through his nose. He was just very, very ugly. His lips were fat and earthworm pink, his eyes were asymmetrical, and his eyebrows were like forests of black wire. The same with the hair on his head, and on his cheeks—which was indistinguishable from the hair on his body. He didn’t walk like a normal person; he lumbered. That was just the way he was born.
All of the other girls had run when they saw the Minotaur. The women, too, and the boys. Some of the men had tried to fight—not that it mattered. The end had always been the same: the Minotaur patting his belly, pulling a sucked femur from his slick lips. But no one had ever been too busy.
Read the rest of the text here.
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