I'm a writer, publishing both as SJ Rozan and, with Carlos Dews, as Sam Cabot. (I'm Sam, he's Cabot.) Here you can find links to my almost-daily blog posts, including the Saturday haiku I've been doing for years. BUT the blog itself has moved to my website. If you go on over there you can subscribe and you'll never miss a post. (Miss a post! A scary thought!) Also, I'll be teaching a writing workshop in Italy this summer -- come join us!
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Fly me to the moon
Oh, I have to. I just have to.
I'm back, I've slept, I'll tell you guys all about Seattle later -- it was great -- and about how gorgeous the river's been these last couple of days. And about the baby bufflehead ducks. But first: this astronaut thing! I mean, how can I resist? This story is so way-over-the-top tacky that it almost makes a conspiracy theorist out of me.
See, suppose the last space mission -- the one Lisa Marie Nowak was on -- made some discovery that could shake the very foundations of human thought. Oh, I don't know, say we're really all a failed Martian genetic experiment, still being watched in case, against all odds, we start to (as they say in basketball when a losing team begins to rally) show some signs. Suppose NASA, for the good of us all, decides there better not be any more space missions until the multi-government brain trust you all always knew would overcome mutual enmity to join together in a time of dire crisis for the earth, until, I say, these geniuses can get together and figure out what to do about this fact and these Martians, we must stay out of space. But NASA's spent decades trying successfully to convince us space is important and worth paying for. If they changed their tune now ("Sorry, our bad, this stuff's a waste.") everyone would get suspicious. What to do?
Convince -- or order, these are military people -- the astronauts to act like effing lunatics! Space makes you crazy! Our testing was no good, back to the drawing board, we need to figure out a whole new way to select astronauts, give us a few years and we'll get back to you! Now that would work. The astronauts would make that sacrifice, especially if they were promised pivotal roles in whatever save-the-earth scenario the brain trust finally works out. And they would be, because they're astronauts! They're already trained! NASA wouldn't have to go out and get Will Smith, whom they couldn't afford anyway.
So the astronauts draw straws. Lisa Marie Nowak gets the short one, and does the necessary. With gusto, I must say. Now watch out for two more, though much more minor, breakdowns in the astronaut core over the next couple of months. Watch for a temporary shutdown of the manned space program as NASA refines their psychological tests. And watch the skies.
(I actually have other conspiracy scenarios into which this tawdry episode fits quite neatly. But this is the best.)
I'm back, I've slept, I'll tell you guys all about Seattle later -- it was great -- and about how gorgeous the river's been these last couple of days. And about the baby bufflehead ducks. But first: this astronaut thing! I mean, how can I resist? This story is so way-over-the-top tacky that it almost makes a conspiracy theorist out of me.
See, suppose the last space mission -- the one Lisa Marie Nowak was on -- made some discovery that could shake the very foundations of human thought. Oh, I don't know, say we're really all a failed Martian genetic experiment, still being watched in case, against all odds, we start to (as they say in basketball when a losing team begins to rally) show some signs. Suppose NASA, for the good of us all, decides there better not be any more space missions until the multi-government brain trust you all always knew would overcome mutual enmity to join together in a time of dire crisis for the earth, until, I say, these geniuses can get together and figure out what to do about this fact and these Martians, we must stay out of space. But NASA's spent decades trying successfully to convince us space is important and worth paying for. If they changed their tune now ("Sorry, our bad, this stuff's a waste.") everyone would get suspicious. What to do?
Convince -- or order, these are military people -- the astronauts to act like effing lunatics! Space makes you crazy! Our testing was no good, back to the drawing board, we need to figure out a whole new way to select astronauts, give us a few years and we'll get back to you! Now that would work. The astronauts would make that sacrifice, especially if they were promised pivotal roles in whatever save-the-earth scenario the brain trust finally works out. And they would be, because they're astronauts! They're already trained! NASA wouldn't have to go out and get Will Smith, whom they couldn't afford anyway.
So the astronauts draw straws. Lisa Marie Nowak gets the short one, and does the necessary. With gusto, I must say. Now watch out for two more, though much more minor, breakdowns in the astronaut core over the next couple of months. Watch for a temporary shutdown of the manned space program as NASA refines their psychological tests. And watch the skies.
(I actually have other conspiracy scenarios into which this tawdry episode fits quite neatly. But this is the best.)
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