On second thought, let's not. After all, most any one could read this blog.

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Having come a bit closer to finishing "A Historical Note on the Role of the Anarchists in the Zobmie Apocalypse" (I'll probably change that title later, but for now I love repeating it) it occurs to me that the politics are a bit more ambiguous than I initially expected. After all, while it does portray the anarchists sympathetically, its pretty much the worst-case-scenario on what would happen in the event of a revolution: through an unpredictable chain of causes and unintended effects, it sets off first a repressive backlash and then a zombie apocalypse. And no one likes to have their brain eaten by zombies.

So, interpreted in a certain way, its turning out to be a very conservative story indeed.

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Tom Disch, tireless and sharp-tongued advocate of the Importance of Literary Standards in his sf reviews, is now, if I understand what I'm seeing here correctly, self-publishing his poetry on his blog.

What am I missing here?

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I don't generally like sweet mixed drinks, but I like Irish Coffee. Perhaps the components are too strong to resist in combination: I like whiskey, I like coffee and I like Ireland. (Or at least, a fairly affected idea of Ireland shaped through the fog of spirit-of-1916 Irish Republican Socialist notalgia.) Given these predelictions, I probably can't help it.

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Mallory wonders about the "depictions of all heroines as staggeringly beautiful women with extraordinary gifts" a la Buffy and Laura Croft, going on to say that, "What I don't see are women like Mukhtar Mai, Oprah or Mother Theresa or even Hillary Clinton."

I'm quoting terribly out of context here, and my apologies to Mallory for that if you're reading this, but now I can't get the image out of my mind of Oprah single-handedly fighting off hordes of three-eyed alien creatures.

It's an interesting thought, but somehow oddly unsettling. I'll be keeping my unrealistic, staggeringly beautiful action heroines, thank you very much.

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I was in Ann Arbor today doing ballot-access petitioning for my friend Matt Erard. I'm sitting in the Espresso Royale right now, drinking (non-Irish) coffee and typing this. They have "Spanish Bombs" by the Clash on in the background. This suggests some sort of quasi-ironic thought, and its sort of on the tip of my tongue, but I can't quite formulate it.

So I guess that's it for now.