nelc: (Default)
Seen on an old thread at RPG.net:
Monster Pizza Hunter, by Larry Correia
Due in Bookstores by September or it's FREE!

Owen Z. Pitt collapsed his bulk into the low slung couch and groaned. The sling buckle from Abomination dug into his already bruised ribs. The non-stop action of the past three days had earned him, and the rest of MHI, enough of a PUFF bonus that he was going to have to open another IRA, but if every bone in his body wasn't broken, or at least bruised, then it wasn't the fault of the swarm of cranky Cub Scouts that had lept out of the trees on him as he was disposing of the last zombie attack at Mickey Pearl's Fabulous Outdoor Petting Zoo. He leaned his head back, and let his exhaustion overcome him...

..."HELLO IN THERE! What are you doing?"

Z snapped his eyes open, to find himself sitting in a field being cropped by sheep. Leaning over him was the figure that had saved his life, and the world, despite being dead.

"Hello, Mordechai. What's wrong? I thought we got all the infestation cleared out?"

"Oh, so it's mister knows-it-all still, heh? You deal with a few undead, and you think you can just take your ease! Well, listen mister know it all, if you'll pay attention, you'll hear the sound of your wife in the kitchen, trying to fix something for you to eat, while you sit drooling on the couch. GET UP, bubie, and go help her! You're newly weds, remember? Or do you want to grow up to be EXACTLY like your father, a good man though he is?"

"No, you're right. " Z blinked his eyes again, and was back in the living room. With a groan and a grimace, he eased his way into the kitchen, to see Julie gazing into a nearly empty cupboard, with a frying pan in her hand.

"Look, honey, I'm about tired to death, and you worked as hard as I did, if not more. How about we just call out for pizza tonight?"

Julie turned. The light from the setting sun glistened off the tears forming in her eyes. She released her grip on the frying pan, and let it fall to the floor. In a moment she was in his arms, clutching his load bearing equipment, and whispering, " Z, you are the most thoughtful man on the planet."

Z thought "Man sometimes it's really good to have a crazy dead guy in your head," as he patted her back. He thought he heard a ghostly chuckle, but wasn't sure.
nelc: (neon)
More Sad & Rabid Puppy filk from Kyra:
I met a traveller from an antique con
Who said: `Two sad and rabid slates of prose
Stand in the Hugos. Near them, on the lawn,
Half drunk, a group of voters lie, whose pose,
And angered quips – except at works withdrawn –
Tell that their votes would not by slates be led,
And yet survive, stamped on an online form,
The posts that mocked them and the works they read.
And on the pedestal these words appear —
“My name is Puppymandias, so conform:
Vote for my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. When votes were scored
For that colossal slate, with room to spare,
The lone and sole result was No Award.’
nelc: (Default)
If you haven't heard of the Sad and Rabid Puppies, you may need to read this link first, then consider yourself blessed that you haven't heard of them. Or you could read the last two months' worth of Hugo Award posts on File770.com, if you were a masochist.

By Chris S:
Choose puppies. Choose the red pill. Choose GamerGate. Choose a side. Choose a fucking big AR-15 with match grade drop forged barrel, port polishing, lightweight composite furniture, Choose 1:12 rifling twist, 5.56mm 62 grain FMJ ammo and a Nikon ProStaff Rimfire 3-9×40 matt black riflescope. Choose Nutty Nuggets. Choose nothing that challenges your ingrained viewpoint. Choose a disease. Choose your allies. Choose stalking internet strangers. Choose a three volume novel in a range of fucking beige. Choose fucking big explosions and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch reading mind-numbing spirit-crushing puppy nominated dreck, stuffing fucking junk novels into your head. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, nothing more than an embarrassment to the Hugo nomination process. Choose your safe future that looks just like today. Choose puppies . . . But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose puppies: I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got SF?


By Glenn Hauman:
Antagonish

Yesterday, out in the hall,
There was no SJW Cabal.
They were not there again today.
I wish, I wish they’d go away.

When I came home at three o’clock,
The Hugo noms had MilSF block!
But when I looked for the Cabal,
I couldn’t see them there at all!
Go away, go away, don’t you come back any more!
Go away, go away, and please don’t slam the door…

(apologies to Hughes Mearns)

It’s times like this I really miss John M. Ford. But we carry on in his stead.
nelc: Toy Story alien photographer (photos)
New batch of the new Banksy grafitto in Cheltenham put up a week ago Sunday, parodying GCHQ's efforts to find out everything ever about everyone.

DSCF5985

And Yahoo have broken the Flickr repost link to LJ for some (or no) reason, again, and now I can't find the control panel for re-setting it anymore, so you get this untidy manual version.
nelc: (Default)
From comrade pointdexter, in the rpg.net Tangency forum, the thread Sex..., message 61:

Friends, Lovers, Leathermen, lend me your ears.
I come to bury Sex, not to praise it.
The reproducing that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interrèd with their hormones.
So let it be with Sex. The noble Brutus
Hath told you Sex was lascivious.
If it were so, it was a sexalicious fault,
And sexaliciously hath Sex answered it.
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest --
For Brutus is a sexy man,
So are they all, all sexy men --
Come I to speak in Sex's funeral.
It was my friend, faithful and just to me.
But Brutus says it was too hot for TV,
And Brutus is a sexy man.
It hath brought many flirtatious people home to Rome,
Whose Adult Content did the general coffers fill.
Did this in Sex seem ambitious?
When that the sex-starved and hard-up have cried, Sex hath wept.
Dirty minds should be made of hotter stuff.
Yet Brutus says he was fornicatious,
And Brutus is a sexy man.
You all did see that on the Mardis Gras
I thrice presented him a queenly gown,
Which he did thrice vamp about in. Was this vogueish?
Yet Brutus says he was a shameless drag queen,
And sure he is a sexy man.
I speak not to sex up what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do, biblically, know.
You all did love Sex once, not without cause.
What cause withholds you then to mourn for Sex?
O Judgment, thou art fled to prudish beasts,
And men have lost their libidii!
Bear with me.
My gonads are in the coffin there with Sex,
And I must pause till my digital porn feed come back to me.
nelc: (Default)
From comrade pointdexter, in the rpg.net Tangency forum, the thread Sex..., message 61:

Friends, Lovers, Leathermen, lend me your ears.
I come to bury Sex, not to praise it.
The reproducing that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interrèd with their hormones.
So let it be with Sex. The noble Brutus
Hath told you Sex was lascivious.
If it were so, it was a sexalicious fault,
And sexaliciously hath Sex answered it.
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest --
For Brutus is a sexy man,
So are they all, all sexy men --
Come I to speak in Sex's funeral.
It was my friend, faithful and just to me.
But Brutus says it was too hot for TV,
And Brutus is a sexy man.
It hath brought many flirtatious people home to Rome,
Whose Adult Content did the general coffers fill.
Did this in Sex seem ambitious?
When that the sex-starved and hard-up have cried, Sex hath wept.
Dirty minds should be made of hotter stuff.
Yet Brutus says he was fornicatious,
And Brutus is a sexy man.
You all did see that on the Mardis Gras
I thrice presented him a queenly gown,
Which he did thrice vamp about in. Was this vogueish?
Yet Brutus says he was a shameless drag queen,
And sure he is a sexy man.
I speak not to sex up what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do, biblically, know.
You all did love Sex once, not without cause.
What cause withholds you then to mourn for Sex?
O Judgment, thou art fled to prudish beasts,
And men have lost their libidii!
Bear with me.
My gonads are in the coffin there with Sex,
And I must pause till my digital porn feed come back to me.

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