July 31, 2006

Yes. The Marketing Side of the Business is Growing.

So I guess I'm both a hack and a flack now. Cool. I suppose this means I should buy drinks for myself at MediaBistro parties.

What shall I call this particular outreach? How about "Scourge of Europe Publicity"?

"We pillage the publishing world." It's got that Joy-type of subtlety all over it. Oozing from its every pore.

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If a Tar Baby is a Black Person

. . . what are the implications of my working so near the La Brea Tar Pits in Los Angeles? Is that, like, a ghetto for saber-toothed tigers?

Cal Tech Girl is starting to get irritated, as anyone who owns a dictionary in this day and age must.

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The L.A. Times is Flummoxed.

Mysteries within mysteries.

Patterico tries to play Sherlock Holmes in the wake of the dark, murky Seattle shootings.

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July 30, 2006

"Air Conditioning for Your Head"

I'm really starting to like Matt Elson's artwork. Though he offers conventional snow scenes, he tweaks the colors in some of them and transcends photorealism that way. His portraits are really, really strange and wonderful. Classically trained, he uses interesting techniques, such as photoshopping photographs to provide fresh inspiration for the paintings themselves.

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"If You Start Typing, Your Unconscious Will Solve That Problem," He Tells Me.

"It's solving it now," I reply.

"Really? 'Cause it looks like you're just sitting around making yourself miserable."

"By that logic, you aren't working when you go lie down in the middle of the day."

He looks at me. "That's just more of your smart talk."

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Where Are the Servants?

They should be cutting up watermelon for me.

And revising Chapter Two.

And working out that thing in Chapter Six.

And cleaning my kitchen.

One cannot get good help these days . . .

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July 29, 2006

Reynolds on the MSM Spinning the Seattle Shooting

With Tim McVeigh they were happy to generalize guilt, all the way from the NRA to Rush Limbaugh and Newt Gingrich. Here, the "climate of opinion" in subcultures producing terrorists seems to get less attention, or to be processed in more of a "why do they hate us?" fashion. I wonder why?

It's certainly a mystery. More here.

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The Gun Fad

Wish we'd talked about this last weekend, Rusty. Great to meet you, though. I'll just echo what everyone else has said: get a revolver (.38 Special or .357, please), get some training, spend a little time at the range. Keep it away from kids, and the untrained.

And have fun. Firearms are the greatest.

Via Insty.

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Too Late, Mr. Auden. Mr. Kipling. Mr. Gibson.

Time that with this strange excuse

Pardoned Kipling and his views,

And will pardon Paul Claudel,

Pardons him for writing well.

—W.H. Auden, attempting to redact material from a Sheriff's arrest report

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Attila the Hub on Mel Gibson

"It has to be mortifying for a man to publicly apologize for having gotten drunk and said things that made him sound like Al Sharpton sounds sober."

Yes. And I admire Gibson for his public statement: he's acting like a stand-up guy.

The bulk of this issue is between him and his family. But he let his fans down, too. So in my own small way I can forgive. I cannot forget, though. I'll never forget.

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Sorry, Mel.

I know alcohol and testosterone are a potent combination, but the antisemitism had to come from somewhere. It's pretty much over between you and me, Doll.

No one can ever take away your achievements, however. And this doesn't make The Passion of the Christ retroactively anti-Jewish.

Once in a while, one has to distinguish between an artist's work and his ugliest thoughts. This is one of those times.

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July 28, 2006

"Hadji Girl"

Buy it.

Regarding the Islamofascists: I'll be a lot more sensitive to their feelings when they stop trying to kill Americans, Jews, and other "infidels." That homicidal mania thing is grating, if you want to know the truth.

In the meantime, the money will make its way to members of the U.S.M.C. somehow, and that's all that matters.

Via Raven.

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My Characters

. . . appear very shallow to me right now. It appears that they are showing an inordinate interest in food and sex.

I guess I should try to instill some values in them. But why do I have to do everything?

Oh. Right.

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July 27, 2006

I Love the Smell of Fisking in the Morning.

Darleen Click just cut Amanda Marcotte a new vagina over the latter's anti-Israeli bigotry.

Not that a second vagina wouldn't come in handy now and then, mind you . . . there isn't necessarily anything wrong with that double-barrelled lifestyle.

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"What About When You Asked Him for His Phone Number?"

"I did that out of his earshot, so it doesn't count. Besides, I meant it ironically."

"Ironically?"

"Yes. It was a wry commentary on the fact that he's way too young for me."

"You go crazy when the weather gets hot."

"Yes. But I wasn't flirting with the waiter. And that's final."

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"Well," She Says, "There's No Harm in Flirting."

"I was not flirting," I reply. "That kid was young enough to be . . . my younger brother."

"You don't have a younger brother."

"So you admit that he was fair game?"

"Do you admit that you were flirting?"

"With a 30-year-old? No. But you're welcome to make a citizen's arrest."

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Who is Socrates' Gadfly?

I admit that I'm puzzled. He's been all over the R.L. Hymers cult for years and years. A shadowy figure, he's granted interviews about his experience in the Hymers "church" and written letters to the editors of various periodicals. He participates in the Yahoo group devoted to warning people about the cultic attributes of Bob Hymers' "ministry."

I know most of these people. But Socrates operates from the shadows. Very mysterious.

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Lunch Today

. . . with my ex-girlfriend. The one who married my former boyfriend. (No, no: not the boyfriend who cheated on her with me—the one who saw her on the side [with my full knowledge and consent] while he was living with me.)

I swear I don't understand why you guys can't keep this all straight. It's easy as pie.

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No, Really.

It's like being in charge of making the vinaigrette when one person at dinner is into the health benefits of olive oil, and another is afraid of the calories, so she wants it to be 90% vinegar. Then the first one accuses you of trying to take the enamel off her teeth.

I'm supposed to develop my characters first, but then everyone wants the body to show up immediately. The advice is all contradictory.

Writing is too hard. I think I need to learn a real trade. I'd make a good truck driver, for instance.

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July 26, 2006

Nobody Likes Me.

More precisely, they don't like my introductory chapter. Too chatty. Doesn't lead us into the story soon enough. Too clever. Blah blah blah. I'll keep going. Meanwhile, I'll start investigating when the bodies show up in various murder mysteries whose authors I respect.

The challenge is to keep writing the missing middle chapters, even as I focus on the beginning chapters and the last ones when I read aloud in my high-intensity workshop.

And to be prepared to encounter the occasional Philistine who just doesn't see my brilliance.

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