Tag: PR

Hortatory self-aggrandizement.

Around The Rimless Sea: Folk

FOLLOWING ON THE INFORMATION REVEALED in “Who Is This Prosatio Silban, And What Does he Want?” here is a chart listing the Exilic Lands’ inhabitants. It’s meant as a quick reference rather than a last word. Attentive readers will recognize…

Who Is This Guy?

THIS GENTLEMAN, WHO SPEAKS WORLDS while twiddling his moustache, is “Metaphoragin’ Smith”, our mascot here at The Metaphorager. He epitomizes our outlook and mission: bemused, slightly rumpled and willing to talk all day about everything in the world if necessary/desired.…

“Starbase 33 Minyan”

According to the Official Couch Potato Handbook, each official Couch Potato Viewing Lodge must have its own name. Ours is the “Starbase 33 Minyan,” mostly due to a love of science fiction in general (and Star Trek in particular). The…

“Self-Deleting Jews”

(Feel free to skip if you’re not hot for ethnoapologetics.) THERE’S AN UGLY MEME IN the Jewish community that may or may not have analogs among other minority groups: the so-called “self-hating Jew.” This term, most often used in online…

Aside

ASTUTE READERS OF THE METAPHORAGER may have noted the default use of the masculine gender (e.g. he, him, his, man, etc.). This is due neither to a slight against the better-looking sex nor a political statement, but the love of such phrases as “MAN ON MOON” or “essential love of mankind” or “There are some things Man was not meant to know,” and as an XY kind of guy it just sort of comes natural to me.

My point is, if you’re hung up on a phrase, you’re missing the point.

Rethinking “Privacy”

RECENTLY, ONE OF MY FAVORITE blogs switched their commenting software from one which featured anonymous “handles” to one which can also link readers under their real names. It has caused me to rethink what I thought I took for granted…

What I Stand, For

HAVING JUST RECEIVED ORDERS FROM Fearless Leader to define my principles in 106 characters or less and then disperse them yea seedlike to the multitudes, I replied as follows: Clearer thinking. Don’t litter. Say “please” and “thank you” and mean…

When The Troll Sweats, Bottle It

IN THE STARS MY DESTINATION, Alfred Bester imagines a world peopled (in part) by a cast-off group of future savages who chant scientific formulae during their religious rituals. “Quant Suff!” they chant, in abbreviated imitation of “sufficient quantity.” “Quant Suff!”…