March 21st, 2006

Boss Coffee


We had three trucks for a couple of hours this morning but now we're back down to two; the truck from Edina has been cancelled and replaced by a Budget 15-footer which is a lot closer to the hotel and thus closer to our AV rental place. We also have half a grand worth of barbecued ribs and chicken and sides being cooked up on our behalf, and geekboyonline is taking care of our lone vegetarian guest so that's covered, except I still have to go retrieve all that food on Thursday. Happy happy joy joy. Still waiting for the call back from the guy who's renting us the dividers for the lounge and the bookcases (cheaper than cabinets) for Operations.

The mailbox was full of stuff today, but not much of it for the convention for a change. Another AMV showed up, probably for WTF?, and a couple pieces of returned mail. The progress report for Convergence also showed up, addressed to "The Trainor Family", which took me aback a kids have both moved out on their own, and there's no Mrs. Trainor closer than Pittsburgh -my Uncle John's wife, whose name I am ashamed to have forgotten- any more. It's not something I'm angry about, but it does bother me. Puts me in a weird mood, it does.

Gother (and richer) than thou

This article from the Guardian reminds me of the old Rice University cheer: "You can laugh/And have your day/But you'll be working /For us someday!"
Via K-Lo at the Corner.

Jane Galt asks,

I wonder if those who read science fiction in childhood can be divided into those who liked Robert Heinlein better, with his swashbuckling individualism, and those who preferred Isaac Asimov, with his technocratic fantasies. And I wonder if those early preferences semi-reliably map onto the conservative/liberal divide . . .

Makes for an interesting discussion in the comments, with lots of other authors dragged in. Me? Heinlein, by a long shot. Until the execrable Number of the Beast came out I bought and read pretty much everything he wrote, even the lame and sprawling I Will Fear No Evil. Interesting that none of the commenters marked the correlation between his stroke in the early 1970s and the deterioration of his work...I'm of the opinion that the only good book after Glory Road was Time Enough For Love, which despite its length isn't anywhere near as good as Double Star or The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress.

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And now I must be going, to pick up stuff and laminate...