Brother Baal and one of his sons will come in tonight and sleep here. The rest of the kith will gather here tomorrow. I have every confidence that this will be a Christmas that will be remembered long after I’m dead as one of the most disastrous my nieces and nephews ever experienced.
As you’ve probably noticed, it’s my policy to always expect the worst. I figure it’s a way of cheating the malevolent forces of the universe. I like to think there’s a good chance they’ll choose to get their kicks out of disproving my prophecy, and so let the events turn out OK.
This policy hasn’t worked with the predictions in my novels, so I don’t know why I cling to it.
Yes I do. I cling to it because I’m neurotic.
I listened to Michael Medved driving home from work tonight, and heard part of his interview with Chris Gardner, the guy Will Smith plays in the new movie, “Pursuit of Happyness.” I don’t know how the movie will be, but I’ve rarely heard a guy on the radio I just liked so much, so quickly.
Good news via Libertas: Ennio Morricone is finally getting his Academy Award. There’s a vestigial remnant of justice somewhere under heaven after all.
Also, I’ve been informed by way of the Science Fiction/Fantasy Writers of America that my old publisher, Baen Books, is making books available to the disabled:
“Baen Books (www.baen.com), a publisher of science fiction, will provide its
books to fans who are blind, paralysed, or dyslexic, or are amputees, in
electronic form free of charge, effective immediately.”
My novel Wolf Time is one of those books in electronic form, unless they’ve dumped it (always a possibility).