I’ve been having computer problems, a dead hard drive, so I haven’t been posting. I can’t watch the health care “debate.” So much concentrated ignorance overloads my despair circuits. The current system works fine folks say. Take my case: Because I was diagnosed with cancer last year, Sarah and I married, and I got on her health insurance, so that when I had a heart attack, I was insured and was able to survive and not be bankrupt afterwards. Without last year’s cancer and Sarah’s state job, I’d be toast today. Now who says that isn’t good healthcare?
I’ve been doing a lot of reading lately, including a science fiction short story writer of some renown. I had to stop reading the collection, however, because of the ill-advised afterwords appended to each story. Each one was a “poor me” whine reminding the reader of his unappreciated genius, following with a bit of crowing about how brilliant the story was. I found them okay, but he’s pretty much a one-trick pony far as I can tell, and the whining just got on my nerves. The marketplace has been hard on us all, buddy.
I just watched a documentary on Harlan Ellison, and I’m certain he’s not the writer in question. He’s more “drop dead!” than “poor me.”
True. Harlan seems to be the most storied storyteller in sfdom. Pugnacious, possibly paranoid, but not self-pitying, at least in the stories I’ve heard.