Tonight I plan to open my autographed copy of The Difference Engine, paste a picture of myself to the inside flap of the dust jacket, and gaze upon it while masturbating furiously for approximately 20 minutes. I will be away from electro-mail and text-casting during that time. If anyone needs to reach me, please contact my agent.
Monday, June 9, 2008
"As a DIY afficionado and fecalpheliac, I just adore this yarn-turd! I keep it in my pocket for emergencies. I'm trying to convince my wife to knit me some more so I can have a whole pile of them to roll around in!"
Friday, June 6, 2008
My fellow electro-memecaster Sexi Jardon sent me this image -- its an amazing, wonderful, painfully lovely steampunk dildo, crafted from solid brass. It even has its own three-legged stand for storage and display! My. Jaw. Is. Dropping. I sure do wish I had a vagina! (Thanks, Sexi!)
Many of you are electro-mailing me wondering what happened to yesterday's post about censorship, "How the internet will preserve the free exchange of ideas and opinions, and rescue the first amendment from conservative tyrants".
Because some of the comments were insufficiently polite or took positions contrary to my own, I regret to tell you that that post has been removed by our moderator, along with its comments. Furthermore, the disagreeable participants have been banned from ever commenting again.
For years I have written and spoken at length about the paralyzingly wrong-headed approach taken by the world's calendar makers when it comes to the name of our tenth month: October. I can barely bring myself to type the name without my jaw dropping from the sheer nonsense of it. Think about it: does an octagon have ten sides? Does an octopus have ten legs? Just in case you are one of the criminally insane and dangerously retarded observers of the Gregorian calendar system, I will spell it out for you: the answer is NO.
Octofascists will of course tell you that it doesn't matter. "October retained its name when January and February were added, and it's been in use for centuries," they'll say. To them I say, fuck you. You do not own my time and I refuse to slavishly follow a twisted ideology in which 8=10. Take that to its logical extreme and we are left with nothing less than the Orwellian horror of 4=5:
In the end the Party would announce that two and two made five, and you would have to believe it. It was inevitable that they should make that claim sooner or later: the logic of their position demanded it. Not merely the validity of experience, but the very existence of external reality, was tacitly denied by their philosophy. The heresy of heresies was common sense. And what was terrifying was not that they would kill you for thinking otherwise, but that they might be right. For, after all, how do we know that two and two make four? Or that the force of gravity works? Or that the past is unchangeable? If both the past and the external world exist only in the mind, and if the mind itself is controllable—what then? [George Orwell was a friend of mine -CD]
And in my recent research I've found that that's not even the worst of it. Not only would Octofascists tell you that four equals five, but that nine equals eleven ("November") and ten equals twelve ("December")!
The veil has been lifted, people. Open your eyes to the truth, if you're brave enough.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
The Detroit Red Wings are the Stanley Cup champions once again. This is a victory that I also lay claim to, since the Redwings are partially named after one of my favorite colors (red), and they are also from Canada! Go Redwings! Woo Hoo!
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
"My company is developing an experimental new silica-based building material that may someday be used to create super-thin transparent walls, which would permit direct viewing of objects or persons on the other side, as if the viewer possessed superman-like x-ray vision. It would also allow people to see outside without having to open a door. Here's a picture I snapped from our top-secret outdoor laboroatory showing two of our engineers installing a prototype."
Barack Obama is now the presumptive Democratic presidential nominee -- a title that I can also lay claim to, since Obama, like myself, is a science-fiction fan, and also a Canadian! I left him a message of congratulation on his voice mail last night. I'm sure he'll call me back. Also worth noting: Barack Obama's favorite movie is Turner and Hooch, which I watched on a plane last year! Barry! Call me!
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
I've been Segwaying around the city for the past few days collecting more achingly beautiful hydrant art. Here's one that I e-snapped a few blocks from Neil Stephenson's house (I like to pick through his trash, so I was in the neighborhood anyway). When I saw it, my spirit soared like a majestic falcon.
Oh. My. God. I need to change my pants after seeing this anus-clenchingly amazing, beyond-the-scale-of-comprehension-of-all-awesomeness Steampunk C3PO! I am standing in a puddle of my own drool -- and feces! (Thanks, OilyLoner!)
Monday, June 2, 2008
First in a series of my one-on-one conversations with the grand icons of Science Fiction! I'm kicking it off with a jaw-dropping transcript of my talk with Robert A. Heinlein in late April of 1988, shortly before his death at the senseless age of 81.
[Author's note: although this conversation never actually took place, it is based on painstaking research and extensive analysis. Had I actually spoken with RH, I am 100% certain that this is how it would have transpired.]
CD: Hey RH, what's up?
RH: Holy living fuck! Corky Devereaux? Oh fuck! I... I can't believe it!
CD: Oh, Rob. You flatter me. You do.
RH: After idolizing you for so many years! At last you bless me with your presence! I'm not worthy!
CD: Let's talk about your books.
RH [pointing to shelf of books]: My books? You mean these?
CD: Yes! You are so prolific. To what do you attribute your vast creativity?
RH [setting shelf on fire]: These books are nothing but rubbish in your presence! Begone! Burn!
CD: Rob... what are you doing?
RH: All my life's work is but a pale imitation of yours, Corky. I've spent decades in your shadow, in a futile quest to match but a fraction of your brilliance. And now you have come to me... at last.
CD: Well, I guess I am pretty talented...
RH: At last! At last I can die! [dies.]
Next up: my skull-shattering conversation with Jules Verne.
I am absolutely agog with envy at the lucky kids who get to play on this breathtakingly incredible, eye-poppingly awesome-beyond-all-comprehension Steampunk jungle gym! Why didn't playgrounds have stuff like this when I was a kid? I would have had hours of jaw-dropping fun pretending to be Captain Steamer, The Steampunk Super Hero who shoots white-hot steam out of his Super-Steam Gun! (Thanks, ScabPicker!)
Jaw-dropping news! One of my books, A Place So Foreign: What A Vagina Might Actually Look Like, has just been translated in to Chinese! I'm quivering with joy! I just shipped 4,000 copies to Sichuan Province, China, to assist the victims of last month's earth-shatteringly terrible earthqake. As you may know, I was scheduled to do a reading there on May 14, but the quake interfered, depriving thousands of people the opportunity to hear me read from my latest novel. Hopefully this will make up for it, and let the healing start.