I Don’t Care What You Think

Jeffor likes me.  That’s all I need.  I don’t even need this lamp or this thermos or this chair.


My sales doubled when the Fag770.com crowd spent 30 comments reassuring each other that the big, bad booger-man wasn’t real or serious or geez let’s all hope he doesn’t come back.  Well, they doubled again when Jeffor dropped his positive review and coupled it with the observation that we all need to point and mock the mockable doofuses like Scalzi even harder.

They can’t take it.  We can – we’ve had decades of practice taking it.  They thought they’d won and were immune to criticism, but the truth is they are weak and fragile souls already battered by weight problems, bad skin, and an absolute dearth of sexy time prospects that can be mated with in a well it room.  All it takes is a little push, a little verbal cutting, and they fall to pieces.

Oh, they put on a brave face, but at night, when they are all alone with their thoughts, your little jabs and jibes hit them like a ton of bricks and then they dive face first into that magic combination of Haagen-Daz and prescription medication.  Enough of those and then it’s straight to the booby hatch where they can never plague our wonderful little elf-game nerdery again.

Our rules didn’t land on SJWs, SJWs landed on our rulebooks.

Show them no mercy.

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It’s a Major Award!

Welp.  I’m back in the manic phase of the cycle, and loving it all to death.  I have to get new business cards and everything.

You can add “Award Winning” to my resume, right alongside, “Industry Insider” and “GSE Certificate Holder” and probably right above “Noted Hermaphrodite”.

It’s true what they say.  It’s always darkest just before you black out.  Which is what I did last night after drinking away my sorrow at not being nominated for the Hog-o Awards.  (Seriously, have you see the kind of people who win those?  They have event horizons.)  Then when you wake up, kick away the empty wine cooler bottles, crawl out form behind the toilet, and clean up, smoke a cigarette, check to make sure the hooker past out in the hotel room is still breathing.  (That’s a big yes.  This time.  So the day started out pretty good.  She didn’t wake up when I took back my cash, nor when I took her dentures out of the glass – I know a guy that’ll take ’em off my hands.)

So then I get home, and check social media and check this out:


The Mixed GM is hot stuff, and discriminating, and handsome.  And this award even comes with hookers and blackjack, and I’ll bet a classy outfit like he runs even offers courtesy morning breath checks.

I’m telling you, I’m shoving this right in my Parole Officer’s fat face tomorrow.  I’ll show him who’ll never amount to anything.  It turns out it’s him, and not me!

So I’ve got that going for me.

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Teh HUGO awards came out today.


No love for Shitlord: The Triggering!  Kameron “Makes Me Wanna” Hurley?!  Carrie “Should Have Worn The Gold Two-Piece In The Force Awakens” Fisher?!  Neil “Sand In My Va-Jay-Jay” Gaiman?!  Ursula K Leguin – the bad guy from the Little Mermaid got a nom?!

Who are these peopel?  I can’t even see straigtht I’m so disappoint.

You know, first Mike Glyer – who should be my Hugo Award Eskimo Brother come August (we all know why those rockets are shaped that way) does me a solid and pimps my latest literary ho on his blog.  It tripled my sales!  Cirsova likes me!  He really like me!  On Monday, I’m dancing on top of hte world, then this ridiculousness.  It’s…it’s ridiculous!

Nobody ever warned me that writing would be such a roller coaster.

I don’t even know if I want The Prolapsing Empire to be nominated next year after this.  It’s just too much pressure for my heart condition.  You know I have a heart condition right?  It’s three sizes too small, and a Hugo Nomination would have saved my life, but NOOoooOOOooo, WorldCon wants me to die.  I’m literally shaking right now.

Literally shaking.  And Team Fatso has used that as an argument as to why their pets should win for like, five years now.  So you know it’s a good argument!

I need to go lie down.  On something soft.

How’s your mom doing these days, anyway?



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I Have Arrived!

Mike Glyer runs File770, a literary site for sci-fi and fantasy nerds like me.  It’s kind of a big deal.  He noticed my short story, “The Prolapsing Empire: An On-Schedule Story“, and even included a droll mention of it on his latest round-up:

file770You know what this means, don’t you?  This is the big time, people!  I have finally arrived.  He was so blown away by my story that he even forgot to provide the link.  His incisive commentary – “gravy train” and “lump” – cuts right to the heart of the spiritual and emotion journey that the main character, COP Doey takes through the course of the tale.  A roller-coaster ride of an emotional journey that resonates with readers everywhere, and which echoes my own journey that I took as I wrote it. I remember when I was watching the frozen burrito slowly spin in the microwave down to the local 7-11 thinking to myself, “Man, you really think anyone will notice your story?  You think you’ll be able to reach out and touch them with your writing?  You think this burrito is done yet?  I mean, how many watts is this stupid thing, like twelve – I’m hungry here, damnit.”

Or maybe I muttered it to myself.  That would explain why the clerk looked at me like that when I paid for it.  Anyway, picking out that that frozen burrito, burning the roof of my mouth while eating it on the 2AM bike ride home even though the center was still cold, and then feeling kind of sick to my stomach after finishing it, was just so emotionally draining I knew the only way to get that out of my system was to sit down and just do a mental hycolonic and throw the results onto the page.  It felt so good, I did a physical hyconolic when I was done.

If you want to feel that kind of cleansing, then you should give “The Prolapsing Empire: An On-Schedule Story” a chance.  It’s so good it makes people who run link run-downs forget to link to it.  It’s less than two bucks and you can read it in less than an hour, even if you have to move your lips when you read like I do thanks to my industrial accident.  It’ll change your life.

Probably in a good way, but I can’t guarantee it.

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Available Now! The Prolapsing Empire

Did you see what Amazon did to Vox Day?  It’s an outrage!

Vox once posted a Hugo Delenda Est meme of mine on his blog, so I owe him my eternal gratitude and loyalty.  John Scalzi once wasted a few hours of my time by tricking me into reading Old Man’s War, so I owe him a lifetime of enmity.

Seriously, that book blows chunks.

Anyway, the Secret King and tricksy hobbit won a tremendous victory by tricking Amazon into banning a second book.  As with last time, I expect a flurry of parodies expressly written to poke fun of Scalzi and cash in on the furor.  And when it comes to predicting somebody will do the sort of thing that I do, my track record is perfect.


My record, like my hair, is still perfect.

The Prolapsing Empire  is a Hugo Award worthy short story – about 6,500 words – featuring blunt force political message draped with a thin veneer of sci-fi trappings.  It’s a genuine tale about the fall of an Empire and how sometimes it just takes one incompetent dolt to expose a corrupt system to enough people to inspire the dominoes to start to fall.  One man like Scalzi over-reaching for Hugo’s can inspire a revolt in publishing that encourages a revolt in video games that inspires a revolt in the electorate that results in the God-Emperor ascending to the Cherry Blossom Throne.

I hope you enjoy this short  sci-fi satire delivered with Terry Pratchett levels of subtlety.  Smart asses like you will probably even appreciate the multi-tiered satire inherent in my unashamedly ripping off a ripoff artist.  I half-hope somebody rips me off – it’s satire all the way down!




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We Know How To Do That


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Say My Name!

Yeah, it’s been quiet here around the old Chateau.  After the election, (((Mom))) found out that I’m a regular on /pol/ and grounded me off my computer.  Which is a little embarrassing given that I’m a 55 year old man.  It’s all good, it gave me time to get down to #hwndu cam and have a little fun with some buds. Also found the time to hook up with my LARP club. We have this weird club where we pretend like 1930s communists had a horrific love child with 1960s hippies, and then we go over to Berkeley and act like violent retards.  We’ve all got noodle arms and no stones, so we just bushwack normies like a bunch of flaming cowards.  It’s a strange hobby, but show me a LARP that isn’t.  Also, the pay is pretty good – surprising given who it is that’s paying us.

It also gave me more time to catch up on some reading in mein kampfy chair.  Loved Appendix N so much some of the pages are stuck together now.  Going back and re-reading some of those books that I haven’t read in decades has been re-invigorating.  It’s really made a difference in how I run my games – they have that free-wheeling attitude that you can’t get while wearing the WotC/Paizo straitjacket.  Still jonesing on Cirsova, too.  Might be a while before I can dig up the scratch for #5 and #6, but #1 and #2 are so good I’ve been re-reading them.

Also, getting thrown off Twitter has dulled my appetite for tweaking the normies.  Carrot and sticking the bizarro-world denizens who take this goofball hobby too seriously just ain’t the same on a slow-mo blog like this.

Also also, had a good run down at the local hobby shop.  Spreading the old school love, and enjoying incorporating that ooey-gooey old school goodness into my tabletop games.  Here’s just one example of what I did to:  I threw my players into a large vale where two groups of aliens were at war over a wrecked spaceship.  At one end were the Chasch and the other were the Dirdir.  The current inhabitants were generations removed from the original castaways, and didn’t know that the ‘temple’ at the top of the peak in the middle of the vale was a wrecked ship.  Legends told it was a gateway to Dirdir heaven, and the PCs were promised all the wealth of the Dirdir village if they helped.  Or they could hit the temple.  Fearing traps, (don’t we all!) they chose to launch the raid on the Chasch village, which allowed the Dirdir to sneak into the temple and escape from the planet – when they saw that ship liftoff from the mountaintop, the players realized they had made the wrong choice.  They figured they had missed out on crazy high-tech loot, and were kicking themselves.  The Dirdir village held enough loot that they didn’t feel too bad about it, though.  Even got a force lance with 50 charges out of the deal.

So, the force lance, It’s a spear and every time it hits it does an additional 1d4 damage and knocks the opponent back 10 feet.  It only uses up a charge when it hits, so it’s one of those great magic items that’s touch, but won’t last forever.

Hey!  Did you know that Trump is still the president?  Strange but deliciously true!  Turns out, you never get tired of winning.  You never get tired of pointing to the scoreboard and rubbing those SJW faces in the fact that the only argument they have left in their pocket is violence.  And as a wise man once said, “Not an argument.”   I think that was Plato.  Or maybe Molyneux.  I can never remember which of those guys is which.

BTW, if you’re really glad to see me, you can thank that Jim Fear psychopath.  He name-checked me in a recent podcast, and like old Hastur himself, saying my name causes me to appear.

Uh-boogity boo!

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