It’s Late (Blast from the Past)

I’m tired, and I’m going to bed, so have a blast from the past which remains relevant – not least because I carefully failed to mention the culprits by name.

There Are No Words

I would have loved to be able to rant about the stupidity of certain ideological literary types, the kind who think that disinviting someone from a guest of honor position because someone might get offended is perfectly acceptable, but sadly, my ability to produce a decent rant is horribly impaired by one simple problem.

These folks have plumbed depths of stupid so deep that to call them morons risks offending perfectly decent morons. If I called them flaming turds of stupid, that would be an insult to all the flaming turds out there – and let’s face it, flaming turds are capable of being useful.

I’d be willing to go with shrieking harpies, but I’d offend the actual harpies – the spirits that carried the souls of evildoers to their ultimate destination, not the questionable beings of purportedly female-ish gender who try to imitate them – and frankly, nobody with any sense wants to do that.

For those who are wondering just why it’s so incredibly idiotic (sorry, idiots) to disinvite a convention guest of honor without clear evidence of wrongdoing committed after the invitation was made public, well, aside from trying to follow said convention runners down the wormhole of brainlessness (sorry, everyone who lacks a functioning brain – you all never actually did anything wrong), you’re missing a very important point.

Once a convention announces a guest of honor, the convention organizers are saying “We have investigated this person and have decided that he (or she or pronoun of choice) is both worthy of the honor and will bring paying guests to our convention.” At minimum, rescinding the invitation is admitting to not doing one’s homework on a good guest of honor for the con. When it’s handled as incompetently as the latest exercise in what not to do was, it says that the people running the con would have trouble pouring piss from a boot if the instructions were written on the heel.

In short, the specimen (okay, yes, I’m insulting specimens) who did this has announced to anyone who cares to pay attention that he is so utterly and irredeemably incompetent that he should not be permitted to run his mouth, much less a convention. If he’d been competent, he would have either recognized that the guest in question was not a good fit for the convention (highly unlikely in this particular case, but not out of the question. For example, I can’t see anyone inviting say John Norman to be a Wiscon guest of honor unless they’re completely insane as well as stupid) or possessed enough backbone to stand up for the convention’s choices.

By trying to disappear evidence that the invitation happened, the convention committee moves into the realms of the various secret polices beloved by dictatorial regimes everywhere. Of course, they forget that the Intertubes are forever and there’s postings of screenshots all over said tubes to counter the removal of Facebook threads and the like. Trying to play Nacht und Nebel with the evidence just makes it look worse (of course, I suspect some of the folks involved think that an old-fashioned Red show trial would be just the thing – although I’d guarantee they’re also utterly convinced they wouldn’t be on the wrong side of said show trial, which again proves their complete lack of cogitative capability. Every dictatorial regime ends up turning on the loyal. The only thing in question is how long it takes).

So, congratulations. I’d say this… person has managed this year’s epic idiocy award except that Einstein was right. Stupidity  really is the only thing in existence that has no limits.


  1. They’re still doing it???

    Maybe this crosses the line to “enemy action”?

    I mean, after a certain point it becomes hard to believe that certain actions (or inactions, admittedly) don’t occur because of the “unforseeable” negative consequences thereof…

    1. Blast from the past, so one suspects that the specific details may be a little different.

      Forex, it may be some other form of stupidity, not anything to do with conventions this time.

      I hesitate to speculate, because the only news I have of current events is not enough to nail down any specific act of stupidity.

      1. It’s nothing specific, just the same kind of antics and attempts to disappear inconvenient facts. Not just in the writing field, either.

        1. Oh, that’s… umm… no it’s really a relief, because it means they still think they’re getting away with it.

          1. “no it’s really” = “no it’s not really” (I need to proofread, rather than see what I intended to type).

        2. Insert long bizarro land raving wall of text that concludes that Kate must be talking about the politics of Hungary/South Korea/Nigeria.

          Examples picked largely because I know I do not have enough information about their politics to make up even semi-plausible nonsense.

  2. “John Norman to be a Wiscon guest of honor”

    I’d pay good money to see this.

    1. Well, yes. I’d pay, and buy plenty of popcorn.

      Come to think of it, you’d need a fleet of 747 cargo planes dropping popcorn into Mount Doom to provide enough popcorn for that.

    2. That would be awesome. While most of Norman’s works are geared toward male-dominated cultures, he does have several that reverse the roles that ought to be appealing to the feminist crowd. And it can be argued that Norman treats these roles as social constructs which can be changed if society so chooses; which I would think would also appeal to feminists. Wiscon has had male authors as GoH in the past, and supposedly didn’t subject them to the Stark treatment of GoT. And while I could defend his invite as a unique learning opportunity for the con-goers, I’d probably be reviled as a murderer for causing too many coronaries for the proposal. Hmmm. I wonder if I could turn that scenario into an alternate universe short story?

      1. It would be hilarious. And probably lawsuit fodder unless you filed the serial numbers off really well…

        Oh dear. Now I can see a story where instead of the milquetoast supporter the committee intended to invite they got the sex’n’heroics author who’s been effectively excommunicated for years. And oh! the lamentation! the wailing! the gnashing of false teeth! the stuttering of the pacemakers!

        … I should stop now before I talk myself into something I’m in no way qualified to write. With my style I’d kill the humor dead.

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