ALWAYS ASSUME A CAMERA.
Inevitable (Itieration #3 in the Heavy-Handed Environmentalism Series)
DESPITE HIS SUDDENLY POUNDING HEARTBEAT, the president’s face remained calm. “Say that again,” he said in his best imitation of a steady voice.
His chief of staff looked as though she would faint. “We have discovered ruins on Venus,” she repeated. “And not primitive ones, either. Actual cities. Roads. Industry. An entire civilization, not all that different from ours, once existed there. And more than existed – it thrived.”
“For a while, anyway,” the science advisor spoke up. “Tell him about the launch sites.”
“‘Launch sites?’” echoed the president.
Word to Bring Back: “Privacy”
– Definition: n. the quality or state of being apart from company or observation
– Used in a sentence: American culture’s “instant celebrity” fixation is playing hob with the basic concept of privacy.
– Why: Duh.
Prosatio Silban and the Blank Tyranny
ARTISTRY IN ONE ARENA DOES not always guarantee artistry in another.
“My proposal is a simple one,” the young man said. “Grant your endorsement, in a few choice words, of my latest cookbook, New Tastes of Pormaris. It is a simple matter of between three to five hundred words. Should take you less than a day, if even that long. What say you?”
Prosatio Silban’s mind raced for the softest possible protest. Belio Pharval was the eldest son of a professional acquaintance from Pelvhi’s Chopping-House. A nice enough fellow in his own right, but his request was a bit far afield for the cook-errant – whose heart thumped as he weighed the situation.
What do I know about writing? he thought. For that matter, what do I know of this lad? True, his mother credits him with verbal skill and cooking talent; he can turn a fair phrase or flavorsome dish at need. But how far goes my social obligation to his mother? And how many others might come seeking the same favor? I cannot. I must not. I shall not. How can I?
“Of course I will,” he heard himself reply. “By when, did you say?”
Posse Commentatus (An Alpha-Nerd Manifesto)
(Originally posted 2007.06.28)
IN THE BEGINNING was the Text. But not for long.
The Text – definer and exemplar, authority and comfort, platform and trampoline – was no ordinary collection of words. It spoke of history and possibility, treated miracles as though they were commonplace and elevated the commonplace above the miraculous. Its basic gist was that humanity matters, even if humanity couldn’t always understand why.
Yet while the Text was finite (after all, its Author had to stop writing somewhere) it did contain the seeds of an infinite perpetuation, though not in the most obvious of ways.
Prosatio Silban and the Free Lunch
IF SOMETHING COMES FROM NOTHING, is it worth the price?
Prosatio Silban sighed, and not for the first time that day. How did I come to this? he asked himself. I used to be more thrifty with my pantry and accounts. Perhaps fame has made me overconfident? What am I to do about it before the marketplace officials discover my vagrant status and eject me?
He sighed yet again and, as was his usual habit when he didn’t know what else to do, decided to take a walk.
The ambience of epicurean Pormaris’ busy South Market enveloped him like a familiar garment. Today, however, he took no joy from the noisy mélange of indefatigable hawkers, haggling merchants, and excitable bargain-seekers. In fact, as he trudged along, he could concentrate on little else than his dire prospects.
A wiser me would not have frittered away his livelihood based on hopeful expectancy, Prosatio Silban thought. There’s just no way out of this that I can – oof!
Regarding ChatGPT (or, Cassandra’s Got Nothing On Me)
BE CAREFUL PLAYING WITH THE shiny new toy — the shiny new toy may decide to play with you.