I find it amusing to hear mutterings that despite having decamped en masse (and trust me, in my case there’s rather a lot of masse involved) for the Dragon Awards, alleged Sad Puppies are mysteriously to blame for anything and everything that goes wrong involving a Worldcon.
It’s sad, really. Despite having had no part in anything Hugo related for 2 years in my case and longer for Sarah, Larry, and Brad, we’re the designated scapegoats. Honestly, you’d think that Larry making money by the bucketful, Brad doing his jobs and writing when he can, Sarah fighting illness to write, and me being, well, me wouldn’t be a threat to anyone.
I was planning to snark about the eminently snarkable… but it won’t be today.
Today, we said goodbye to the Baby-cat, whose stomach and kidney issues meant that he wasn’t living anymore. He’d lost 1/2 pound since Saturday, and wasn’t eating, and well… it was time.
So farewell, Baby. Your chirpy meows and love of draping yourself over my shoulder while you nuzzled my ear and purred will be missed. You were 5 when you came to us, and had a little over 6 years with us – not enough time, but at least you got that much.
So even I with my tendency towards extreme hermiting have noticed the rampaging schadenfreude permeating some circles as this year’s WorldCon organizers demonstrate that their primary qualifications lean more to parroting the approved point of view than to actually, you know, organizing anything. Honestly, it’s not surprising.
The best that can be said for the people who are currently scrambling to cover their anatomy is that it is possible they are merely the deluded and ineffectual well-meaning sorts that fall for revolutionary manifestos only to fall to those same manifestos once they cease to be useful to the Glorious Revolution. Or whatever it’s calling itself this time around.
Okay, first I need to explain that title to all the non-Aussies out there. Some number of years ago, there was a saturation-level advertising campaign for a brand of soft drink packaged and sold as “the drink you have when you’re not having a drink” – and the brand name was Claytons.
It took approximately 5 nanoseconds for the term “Claytons” to be used as shorthand for something that claimed to be a thing but was actually something else, usually something inferior. Jokes got made about Claytons budgets (the budget you have when you’re not having a budget), Claytons recessions (the recession you have when you’re not having a recession) and so on.
So, first, an apology for missing last week – I took vacation from the 5th through this coming Friday, so I was basically in weekend mode on the 4th and 5th – which means I completely spaced any kind of idea of writing the post. My bad.
I’m also hitting a specifically female time of life which is making me spacier than usual as well as having less energy. The culmination of which is that it took 5 days of doing bugger-all before I started on some much-needed house cleaning.
When someone is dying, they will often have a last burst of rather feverish energy before the end: a short time when they feel a bit better and do a bit more than perhaps they should before succumbing to the inevitable. I’ve wondered sometimes if this not-quite-death-throes is the last attempt to fight for life before accepting that the fight has already been lost.
Funnily enough, dying ideologies and nations have been known to do the same thing, albeit causing immensely more damage along the way. To misappropriate a cliché, the whole “darkest before dawn” thing seems to be involved somewhere – although the matter of for whom things are darkest and who gets to experience the dawn could be argued. A lot.
So, after I went and splatted you all with my Day and all the associated giphy madness therein, I figured I ought to at least do you the courtesy of giving you an update.
I have received a genuwhine patch build of the misbehaving software, one that has not yet been made available to the
shee… erm… general public. Said patch works. Precisely why this flaw was not uncovered prior to release is something I would prefer not to expound upon, simply because I don’t think the profanity filter is capable of handling that kind of outpouring.