2005-06-16 - 10:07 a.m.
Crappity McCrap Crap
Argh. Argh. Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh. Just fucking shoot me. Better yet, shoot my computer. I come in this morning to a project (that I'm supposed to have at least two week's notice on every time it comes around, which is twice a year, so it's not like they DON'T SEE IT COMING, or anything) that has to be done *today*. Oh, of course it's done. I'm good at my job; I just appreciate the courtesy of cushion time, y'know?. I managed this project despite a computer that freezes every time it's asked to print red lettering, and a hang time for assimilating new ideas that rivals Big Bird's. On the plus side, I have my new brain helmet. You may all envy me now. *smug* Tristan, I failed to mention that I've read *all* of Heinlein's books, haven't I? Oh well - most of them are okay, but they don't stick in my head the way, say, Bradbury does. I am still not entirely convinced that "Starship Troopers" (the book) wasn't a subtle parody of the times (as opposed to the movie, which trended more to the farcical, but hey, what can you do?). (Extra points for anyone who's seen "Starship Troopers II".) (I've seen it twice, believe it or not. Any more than that, and my brain will crawl out of my ear and smack me with the remote.) Bob's favourite, by the way, is "Farnham's Freehold", but mostly because it's got survivalist elements in it. Speaking of survivalist SF novels, have any of you read that terrible Whitley Striber book "Warday"? Don't. It nearly got thrown across the room, until I remembered that it was Bob's book. Yuck. I hate books that tell of the terrible future in a sort of "Mea Culpa, we Americans are responsible for all the terrible things that happen in the world" sort of way. It's boring, untrue, and I really hate people that put down the things they're associated with to curry favour with outside groups. I'm not a America-love-it-or-leave it kind of knee-jerk patriot, either - I just really hate hypocrites. Anyway. My favourite nuclear-annihilation-we're-all-gonna-DIE book is James Herbert's "Domain". It's a bit preachy on the anti-nukes front at the beginning (a stance more forgivabe in touchy-feely England), and it was written in 1980 or so, so the science sucks, but it's lots of fun, especially since it starts with the nukes going off, then gets more horrible from there. It's *great*. Herbert has this thing in his novels where he leaves the main characters every now and then and writes about completely random people experiencing the same disaster - it's not annoying, but fun - like little short stories interspersed throughout the book. The subject matter of this particular novel gives him the chance to off a number of people in particularly gruesome ways, especially since they not only have to contend with the fallout, they're all getting attacked by giant rats (giant as in the size of small dogs, not "Them!"-sized). In fact, you can skip the main protagonist's story altogether, and just read the vignettes, and it will be highly entertaining. But maybe that's just me. Or the mood I'm currently in. I don't want to cry out of sheer frustration any more, so I suppose that's a good thing, but UGH. I need a drink.
Dorsal - Ventral
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all words copyright Laura Mellin 2000-2005
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