"Storytime" and "The Christmas Card" by Terry Gilliam (1968), from Do Not Adjust Your Set. Youtube link ganked from Bully Says.

(And in a related YouTube note, for you Firefox users who are sick & tired of the idiot farms that Youtube comment threads tend to be, why not install YouTube Comment Snob? You'll be glad you did.)

--Peter David, on comic book captions

The first is that I have been sadly, sadly late in noting that A Field Guide to Surreal Botany, edited by Janet Chui & Jason Erik Lundberg, has finally come to pass. There'd been some slight delay, but that's what happens when editors move overseas. I blame time zones, frankly. I think they're now actually two years ahead of us. If you're curious as to what this book actually is, it's somewhat reminiscent of The Thackery T. Lambshead Pocket Guide to Eccentric & Discredited Diseases, only with plants. My contribution, "Dream melons," can be found within. Feel to free to order copies for all your friends. Enemies, too.

The second bit of news for me is that my short story, "Goddess," which appeared in Abyss & Apex many moons ago, will be appearing in their "Best of" collection. No word on the TOC yet, but purported cover art can be seen here. Should be out around November.

To sum up: whee!

A triumph of love and fists.

* * *

Dad got cut loose from the hospital today. Yay, freedom!

The fact that the building only has four floors is of some concern to me, frankly.

Sunday, we were over in Athens with my parents having dinner at the Cracker Barrel. On the way out, I paused in the gift shop (filled with pop culture nostalgia; I once bought a CD of the 1938 radio broadcast of "War of the Worlds" there) to point out to Ian a CD they had of Disney songs. Ian immediately grabbed it, shouting "MICKEY!" A little surprised, I agreed. Ian said "Mickey" a few more times as we examined it.

And then I tried to get him to put it back on the rack.

Five minutes later, I ended up buying it. He's got a very strong grip.

We have now listened to the "Mickey Mouse March" about fifty times. I am counting my blessings, however. This is the only song he wants to listen to, and the very first song on this CD is "It's A Small World." Shudder.

* * *

And now for some more serious news: my dad is having his hip replaced tomorrow. I don't actually know when, but that's hardly my fault. The hospital won't tell you when until, like, the afternoon before. It's like scheduling cable: "Yeah, I'll be by to install your hip sometime between 8 and 5. Be sure you're there." And you know if you try and step out real quick to get the paper, that's when they'll stop by.

At any rate, I'll let you know what I know when I know it.

Update: And now I know: 6:30am. Thanks to Ian's years of training me to rise early, that should be a piece of cake.

Happy anniversary, sweetie.

A light on it blinked for a moment.

Next thing you know, there's a loud WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! coming from it.

I flipped down the service lid to see that the print cartridge cradle, which also has the scanning hardware on top of it, is slamming itself back and forth inside the machine, not unlike someone who's trapped in a box and is attempting to knock it over to free itself. So now I definitely have to go buy a new machine, as I have no use for claustrophobic hardware.

Then again, maybe I'm just doing it wrong.

Now, just picture Halle Berry with a mohawk.

Anyhoo, took it home and that night started reading. Got maybe ten pages into it when *pop* the cover separated at the spine. Cheap, cheap glue. Oh, and for the record: not printed in China or Mexico. Canada. Surprised me too. They can make beer but not glue, it seems. Grr. I could've taken it back, but they didn't have another copy. So instead I took it to work, where one of my helpful coworkers (hi Rita!) provided me with a brush and glue made according to an ancient library recipe. Yes, librarians make our own glue: the secret ingredient comes from patrons with overdue fines. Some gland, I think. Twenty-four hours later and ta dah! good as new!

I do love my day job.

I started reading political blogs right around the time the Iraq War started (so, what? six years ago?). Over time the bookmark folder grew and grew. The other day I realized two things: 1) there were an awful lot of them, and 2) that meant I was spending an awful lot of time reading about things that were only going to make me mad. I mean, c'mon. I already know Bush is a crappy, crappy president and I'm going to vote for Obama. The rest is just, well, chatter.

Yes, there are going to be people out there you don't agree with. Stupid people, saying things that are wrong wrong wrong out on the Internet. Fine. That happens in real life too. Let them think and say their stupid things. I'm taking a vacation.

I might start reading again after the November elections, but for now I think I'm going to give my blood pressure a rest. No need to return to your homes; please continue your daily routine.

* * *

Finals are pending, which means there'll be a week of people sitting around the joint but wanting nothing to do with us. They'll just be hunched over laptops or books, cramming knowledge into their brains, and more power to 'em. Then it's about two weeks of nuthin'. I'm thinking I'll squeeze some vacation time in there somewhere.

* * *

Spoilers don't actively bother me, I have to say. I'm not the kind of guy who reads the last page of the book he's reading in case he dies before the end, mind you. It's just an annoyance if there's a twist of some kind that's the whole point of the story.

I remember once in grad school, Lisa and I were watching The Shawshank Redemption with a couple friends of ours. During one particularly suspenseful scene, one of them turned to me and asked, "Does he manage to escape?"

So I told her.

Her immediate response was to indignantly reply, "Why did you tell me that?" Well, because she asked. True, reading a review is not the same thing as asking how does it end, but a review is designed to tell you about the movie/book/whatnot, and it's often hard to talk about why something is good or bad without describing it in some detail.

On the other hand, saying the equivalent of "Wow! I can't believe Vader is Luke's father!" as you pass the people waiting to go into the movie is just asking for trouble.

Reading: Killswitch, the last in the Shepard trilogy.

We did also plan to see Mamma Mia! so Lisa could get her hunky Englishman fix, but we totally needed to decompress afterwards. So that'll be saved for later.