Ever since they lost the 2008 presidential election by seven percentage points and 192 electoral votes (as well as eight Senate seats and 21 House seats), the Republicans have been busy trying to "rebrand" themselves, which is to say they're trying to figure out a new way to fool people into voting for their unpopular policies. In fact, there have been so many rebranding efforts launched that it has become necessary for David Weigel of the Washington Independent to create a list in his "People's History of the Republican Comeback". Weigel's reference to the Republicans' "Hari Seldon-ish organizations" got me thinking about what the Republicans really need. Here's what I came up with.
* * *
Newt Gingrich was feeling more than a little anxious as he escorted his fellow Republicans into the Time Vault. He had copied the layout of the place from Asimov's original: fifty seats all facing a large, featureless cube sitting on a stage.
"Will someone finally tell me what the hell this fucking shit is all about?" complained James Dobson. Gingrich winced. Whenever he was out of the public eye, Dobson tended to swear like a sailor. Gingrich figured he was just one open-mike gaffe away from losing control of Focus on the Family, but so far the potty-mouthed zealot had managed to maintain his pious public persona.
"It's something I set up twenty years ago," Gingrich explained. "I was worried that we might face a, well, a crisis, so I decided to prepare a countermeasure."
John Boehner looked around unhappily. "This isn't one of those stupid sci-fi things, is it? You spend too much time thinking about that stuff."
"Please, everyone, just have a seat," said Gingrich as he gestured for the others to help themselves to the front row. "Everything will become clear in," he checked his watch, "two minutes." Was this what it was like for Salvor Hardin? he found himself wondering. Hardin had been the only intelligent man among a small group of hopeless incompetents, and Gingrich felt that life was imitating art just a little too closely. Rush Limbaugh was jittery, clearly coming down from one of his Oxycontin jags. Sarah Palin had that half-shrewd look on her face, as if she were wondering how to get someone else to pay her travel expenses from Alaska. John McCain was giving Palin the skunk eye, Michael Steele was grinning nervously, and Mitch McConnell wore his usual expression of acidic disapproval.
"This isn't gonna take too long, is it?" asked Palin. "I promised to take the First Dude to lunch at Ray's Hell Burger." She tittered, as she always did when she said "Hell Burger".
"Hell of a name for a goddamn fucking burger joint," muttered Dobson. Palin tittered again.
"I don't think so, but I can't be certain," said Gingrich, as he studiously ignored the sight of Limbaugh surreptitiously snorting more of his hillbilly heroin.
Suddenly the lights in the Time Vault went out, and Gingrich realized with a shock that the featureless cube was no longer empty. It was now occupied by a figure -- a figure in a wheelchair!
"Jesus motherfucking Christ!" exclaimed Dobson. "It's Reagan!"
It was indeed. The features were unmistakable, despite the rainbow effect of the twenty-year-old holographic technology.
"What's he doing in a damn wheelchair?" McCain wondered, but the others shushed him.
The holographic Reagan was looking down at a stack of index cards, but he set them down and looked up at the assembled Republicans.
"Well," said the figure in the wheelchair in the familiar smooth tone of voice, "I guess we should get started. I'm not really here, so you don't have to get up or salute or anything." He chuckled and grinned the familiar grin. "Smoke 'em if you got 'em, heh heh. I don't know if anyone's out there. Newt says there's gonna be, but we all know how full of crap Newt is." Among the darkened seats, Gingrich heard Palin titter.
"Well, Nancy's astrologer has been casting horoscopes like crazy, and if she's right, then the Grand Old Party is in big trouble in the year 2009. America's stuck in a hopeless war that one of our guys started, the economy's in the tank, and the country elected a really popular black guy. So, what do we have to do to get the Republican Party back on top?
"Well, first thing is, we have to dump the God-botherers. Jerry, if you're out there, I'm real sorry about this, but that's the way it's gotta be. Joan says that we've got to get the queers voting for us or we're screwed, and the Moral Majority types will never go for that.
"Second, we have to get all the Spanish people voting for us. I thought we worked all this out back in '86, but Joan says they're all angry at us in 2009 for calling them all wetbacks. So, cut out all that wetback talk. Oh, and stop trying to deport the real wetbacks. We need them, and trying to ship them all back to Mexico or wherever is making their relatives angry, and their relatives are legal so they're the ones whose votes we need.
"Finally, and I know this is gonna sound funny coming from me, but Joan says we have to ditch all the KKKers. No more talk about welfare queens and affirmative action. If there's a black guy in the White House, then that means there's not enough honkies to swing elections any more. That well's gone dry, and we're only gonna look like a bunch of Archie Bunkers if we keep trying to win them over.
"Well, that's pretty much it. Joan says if you can win over the queers and the wetbacks and lose the racists, we just might get someone elected after the black guy's second term ends. She says it doesn't look good right now, but that's your best shot. So go out there and win one more for the Gipper."
The holographic Reagan picked up his index cards and began shuffling through them. Then the cube went dark and the lights came back up in the Time Vault.
Dobson had risen from his chair, and his features were livid. "Gingrich, if this is some kind of goddamn motherfuckin' joke, it ain't funny! If I ever catch you at another goddamn values voters summit, I'm gonna punch your fuckin' lights out!" He stormed out of the room, and the other rose and followed him, giving Gingrich a collection of dirty looks as they did so.
"Mike!" Gingrich called out desperately as the RNC Chairman passed by. "Come on! You know he's right! We gotta do what he says or the party's fucked!"
Steele paused for a moment and looked back. "Newt, I got enough troubles as it is without all this crazy talk about dumping the Bible-thumpers and the crackers. If you want to try spouting that shit, you're welcome to, but leave me out of it." He followed the others out the door.
Salvor Hardin, Gingrich knew, would have come up with some pithy epigram to sum up the situation. Gingrich tried to think of one.
"Shit," he finally muttered, and hurried out of the room.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Saturday, May 9, 2009
I may be delayed
Embedded music videos? Yeah, we got 'em. Today it's Siouxsie and the Banshees with their 1991 hit "Kiss Them For Me".
Friday, May 8, 2009
I wasn't using those testicles anyway
The latest episode of the Michael Steele Deathwatch comes from this story in the Moonie Times. As the hypothetical readers of this blog will recall, last week RNC Treasurer Randy Pullen and a group of former RNC officials presented Steele with "a resolution, calling for a new set of checks and balances on the chairman’s power to dole out money." Well, it looks like Pullen and his posse have got their way, because on Wednesday came word that
Steele's enemies within the RNC were threatening to introduce a no-confidence vote at an upcoming special meeting on May 20. Now that Steele has backed down, does that mean he's safe?
I wouldn't count on it.
Remember, these are Republicans. They see attempts at compromise as a sign of weakness. Giving in to them only encourages them to attack twice as hard. Steele may think he's averted that no-confidence vote, but I wouldn't be so sure.
The Times story also mentions that the wingnuttiest of the wingnuts in the RNC have gained enough signatures to force a vote at the special meeting on a resolution labeling the Democrats as socialists, "despite the chairman's reservations about the political wisdom of the move." So expect to see all kinds of fireworks at the RNC's special meeting. If the crazies manage to pass their socialism resolution, they may be encouraged to go all the way and try to ditch Steele.
If the resolution is defeated and Steele manages to hang on to his job, it may be a sign that the GOP might be able to step back from the abyss. But if the resolution passes and/or Steele gets canned, it'll be another indication that the Republican Party has entered a death spiral.
Incidentally, it sure seems like Ralph Z. Hallow at the Moonie Times has a source among the anti-Steele faction at the RNC. The last thing Steele needed was to have this dirty laundry being aired in a would-be national publication. The fact that somebody at the RNC is leaking this stuff to the Moonie Times is another indication that Steele's enemies are out for his blood.
embattled Republican Party Chairman Michael S. Steele has signed a secret pact agreeing to controls and restraints on how he spends hundreds of millions of dollars in party funds and contracts, The Washington Times has learned.
Steele's enemies within the RNC were threatening to introduce a no-confidence vote at an upcoming special meeting on May 20. Now that Steele has backed down, does that mean he's safe?
I wouldn't count on it.
Remember, these are Republicans. They see attempts at compromise as a sign of weakness. Giving in to them only encourages them to attack twice as hard. Steele may think he's averted that no-confidence vote, but I wouldn't be so sure.
The Times story also mentions that the wingnuttiest of the wingnuts in the RNC have gained enough signatures to force a vote at the special meeting on a resolution labeling the Democrats as socialists, "despite the chairman's reservations about the political wisdom of the move." So expect to see all kinds of fireworks at the RNC's special meeting. If the crazies manage to pass their socialism resolution, they may be encouraged to go all the way and try to ditch Steele.
If the resolution is defeated and Steele manages to hang on to his job, it may be a sign that the GOP might be able to step back from the abyss. But if the resolution passes and/or Steele gets canned, it'll be another indication that the Republican Party has entered a death spiral.
Incidentally, it sure seems like Ralph Z. Hallow at the Moonie Times has a source among the anti-Steele faction at the RNC. The last thing Steele needed was to have this dirty laundry being aired in a would-be national publication. The fact that somebody at the RNC is leaking this stuff to the Moonie Times is another indication that Steele's enemies are out for his blood.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Carnival of the Liberals
The latest edition of Carnival of the Liberals, #90, is now available at the Quiche Moraine blog. Host Mike Haubrich has decided that ten links just aren't enough to do justice to the left blogosphere (and how right he is!) so he's got (checking) nineteen, including one of his own. It's all good stuff, so go over and check it out.
"Microcosmic Buccaneers" by Harl Vincent, part 4
This is the fourth installment of "Microcosmic Buccaneers", an early story by pioneering science fiction writer Harl Vincent. The first three installments can be found here, here, and here. As we join our story, thirty-third century scientist Minott V8CA and his youthful ward Grayson R36B find themselves trapped on the world-that-is-actually-an-electron to which they transported themselves. They have been telepathically ordered to enter a cylindrical flying ship . . .
In a New World
The darkness sprang into intense light as the door closed behind them. Blinded to the point of hypnosis, they saw nothing but eyes -- eyes that glared and stared; inspected them as if they were laboratory specimens of an infinitely inferior sort.
Then the blinding light was gone -- gone so suddenly that the darkness seemed terrifying. But it was not for long. The unspoken voice came once more. "They are different!" it said.
Soft hands laid hold of them, flabby fingers pawed their bodies.
"Ugh!" protested Grayson.
Then they were in a room of comfortable brightness and warmth. Six pairs of the eyes regarded them, and for the first time they were aware of the features in which those all-seeing, all-knowing optics were set. These were not the creatures they had viewed through the super-microscope. Far from human was their appearance. But there was more of intelligence -- of sinister cunning and evil intent in those blue-rimmed eyes than in the most despicable and villainous of mortals. The heads were hairless and globular, the parchment-like skin drawn tight over the ugly skulls. Ears they had none -- nor mouths -- nor chins. Nothing there was that marked them as human, save those eyes -- and these were superhuman in their penetrating quality and discernment.
Again their came the voice that sounded not: "Creatures of exceptional knowledge," it said, "whence came ye? Surely not from the savage tribes of Els, nor from Pra or its satellites. In our solar system there are no other inhabited planets. Then, whence came ye?"
Grayson and Minott stared at one another without making reply. Each had understood the question propounded, yet neither comprehended fully, nor had they heard an uttered sound.
"Reply!" came the command. "Full well we know that thy lesser intelligences are incapable of communicating with such as we, on the terms of equality. Yet, from the impulses that come to us, we are aware how ye communicate one with the other. Ye are possessed of antiquated organs, ears, lips, bronchial tubes, like the Elsians. Speak then, that we may read thy thoughts."
The older man was struck dumb, but Grayson's youthful vigor asserted itself in rising anger.
"We are from Earth," he said, "on a friendly mission. And we are astonished at the unfriendly reception we have been accorded."
"Earth?" came the voice that was unhearable, "Why speakest thou that which is untrue? Thy words, though we hear them not, convey to our superior minds meanings that are false."
* * *
Minott nudged his impetuous partner into sullen silence.
"Earth, as we call it," he repeated in a conciliatory voice, "is a planet of another and faraway system. My friend speaks the truth. We are from Earth, and we have no enmity against the peoples of your system."
"Thou liest as well! There is but one other system -- the system of Oc, and that is so far distant as to be unreachable."
Grayson and Minott felt themselves seized by forces of great power and of unknown source and nature. They struggled to no avail. There was a quick jerk that threw them to the hard floor, and they knew the ship was in motion. The light and the penetrating eyes were gone and they felt about in the darkness until they found each other.
"Well, this is a fine welcome!" exclaimed Grayson.
"Yes, and the worst of it is that these beings are not even the inhabitants of the world we came to visit. What they are doing here I do not know, but they are not the people we saw through the super-microscope and it seems they are unfriendly to them as they are to us. What the object of the enmity is, is another thing."
There was a sudden swift descent of the vessel, a crash, and it came to rest. Windows opened on two sides of the room they occupied and through the thick glass, or whatever transparent medium it was, they saw that the ship had descended in the city of gleaming metal. They became aware of great activity within and of much clamor without. A cloud of dense vapor obscured their vision for a time, during which period the activity within increased and they could hear heavy footsteps and the moving about of bulky objects. The mist cleared and they saw a mass of red-gowned humans -- humans like themselves, with perfectly formed features. But this mass of beings lay in pitiful heaps in the center of a great square where there was no other living thing save three of the earless, mouthless, large-eyed creatures who poked about among the bodies. They were removing the valuables from the persons of those unfortunate victims of the deadly gas.
The blinding light from within assailed them suddenly and, blinking dazedly in its glare, they saw five of the red-gowned humans thrust into their own cell and thrown to the floor. The artificial light vanished as suddenly as it had come -- then the daylight as well, for slides of some sort were drawn across the transparent windows.
"Wonder if we can make ourselves understood to these other prisoners," said Grayson.
There was a reply, another wordless communication, a mental impression transmitted from the mind of one of these beings.
"We understand," it conveyed. "You have but to speak for a few minutes and we shall be able to converse with you in your own tongue. Proceed."
Minott spoke slowly and distinctly. "Grayson," he said, "this is a remarkable demonstration of telepathy. Those of the great eyes possess the same power, but something tells me these Elsians, as I presume our fellow prisoners are called, have the keener intelligence though they are apparently at the mercy of the great-eyes. The ship is moving once more and I suppose we are being conveyed as captives of war along with these five who have just been incarcerated with us."
He spoke for perhaps five minutes along the same lines. Then he was interrupted by a gentle voice, a voice of singing quality that pronounced his own uncooth English in accents that made of it a language of smooth beauty.
"You have spoken truly," came the voice from out of the stygian darkness, "and sufficiently to enable us to converse with you. We have learned mental communication of the Prags, the great-eyes as you humorously termed them. But such communication is forbidden in all Els. We prefer the spoken word as we do not wish to evolve as have the Prags -- the pirates who prey on the entire universe and who have become hideous in appearance. From where do you come -- one of the satellites of Pra?"
"No," Minott responded. "We come from another solar system -- from a planet called Earth."
"From the system of Oc?" asked the gentle voice.
"No, from still further."
"Further than Oc?" The voice was frankly astonished now, but not incredulous.
"Yes, much further than Oc. As we measure distance in our land, it is but a fraction of an inch to our own home, but in your terms, which we know not, it is an unthinkable distance."
There was puzzlement in the reply and Grayson nudged his friend into silence. At that moment the blue glare of the lights dazzled them once more, and one of the Prags entered the narrow chamber. Then there was a gradual softening of the brilliancy until the earth visitors were able to make out clearly the ugly form of the Prag.
The short body, surmounted by the immense bulbous head that seemed to be all eyes, was clothed in a single baggy garment of leather through which the emaciated arms and legs projected. At the waist, the garment was drawn together by a broad sash, from which depended a wickedly curved knife and a glittering mechanism that appeared to be a hand weapon of some sort. The lidless eyes with their strange blue rims and bloodshot intensity peered through and through the prisoners from earth.
"You are to appear before the Kama," they were commanded by the thoughts of this creature.
Minott and Grayson, without volition and propelled by a power from without their consciousness, rose meekly and followed the Prag from the room, leaving behind them the softly muttering Elsians.
(continue to part 5)
In a New World
The darkness sprang into intense light as the door closed behind them. Blinded to the point of hypnosis, they saw nothing but eyes -- eyes that glared and stared; inspected them as if they were laboratory specimens of an infinitely inferior sort.
Then the blinding light was gone -- gone so suddenly that the darkness seemed terrifying. But it was not for long. The unspoken voice came once more. "They are different!" it said.
Soft hands laid hold of them, flabby fingers pawed their bodies.
"Ugh!" protested Grayson.
Then they were in a room of comfortable brightness and warmth. Six pairs of the eyes regarded them, and for the first time they were aware of the features in which those all-seeing, all-knowing optics were set. These were not the creatures they had viewed through the super-microscope. Far from human was their appearance. But there was more of intelligence -- of sinister cunning and evil intent in those blue-rimmed eyes than in the most despicable and villainous of mortals. The heads were hairless and globular, the parchment-like skin drawn tight over the ugly skulls. Ears they had none -- nor mouths -- nor chins. Nothing there was that marked them as human, save those eyes -- and these were superhuman in their penetrating quality and discernment.
Again their came the voice that sounded not: "Creatures of exceptional knowledge," it said, "whence came ye? Surely not from the savage tribes of Els, nor from Pra or its satellites. In our solar system there are no other inhabited planets. Then, whence came ye?"
Grayson and Minott stared at one another without making reply. Each had understood the question propounded, yet neither comprehended fully, nor had they heard an uttered sound.
"Reply!" came the command. "Full well we know that thy lesser intelligences are incapable of communicating with such as we, on the terms of equality. Yet, from the impulses that come to us, we are aware how ye communicate one with the other. Ye are possessed of antiquated organs, ears, lips, bronchial tubes, like the Elsians. Speak then, that we may read thy thoughts."
The older man was struck dumb, but Grayson's youthful vigor asserted itself in rising anger.
"We are from Earth," he said, "on a friendly mission. And we are astonished at the unfriendly reception we have been accorded."
"Earth?" came the voice that was unhearable, "Why speakest thou that which is untrue? Thy words, though we hear them not, convey to our superior minds meanings that are false."
* * *
Minott nudged his impetuous partner into sullen silence.
"Earth, as we call it," he repeated in a conciliatory voice, "is a planet of another and faraway system. My friend speaks the truth. We are from Earth, and we have no enmity against the peoples of your system."
"Thou liest as well! There is but one other system -- the system of Oc, and that is so far distant as to be unreachable."
Grayson and Minott felt themselves seized by forces of great power and of unknown source and nature. They struggled to no avail. There was a quick jerk that threw them to the hard floor, and they knew the ship was in motion. The light and the penetrating eyes were gone and they felt about in the darkness until they found each other.
"Well, this is a fine welcome!" exclaimed Grayson.
"Yes, and the worst of it is that these beings are not even the inhabitants of the world we came to visit. What they are doing here I do not know, but they are not the people we saw through the super-microscope and it seems they are unfriendly to them as they are to us. What the object of the enmity is, is another thing."
There was a sudden swift descent of the vessel, a crash, and it came to rest. Windows opened on two sides of the room they occupied and through the thick glass, or whatever transparent medium it was, they saw that the ship had descended in the city of gleaming metal. They became aware of great activity within and of much clamor without. A cloud of dense vapor obscured their vision for a time, during which period the activity within increased and they could hear heavy footsteps and the moving about of bulky objects. The mist cleared and they saw a mass of red-gowned humans -- humans like themselves, with perfectly formed features. But this mass of beings lay in pitiful heaps in the center of a great square where there was no other living thing save three of the earless, mouthless, large-eyed creatures who poked about among the bodies. They were removing the valuables from the persons of those unfortunate victims of the deadly gas.
The blinding light from within assailed them suddenly and, blinking dazedly in its glare, they saw five of the red-gowned humans thrust into their own cell and thrown to the floor. The artificial light vanished as suddenly as it had come -- then the daylight as well, for slides of some sort were drawn across the transparent windows.
"Wonder if we can make ourselves understood to these other prisoners," said Grayson.
There was a reply, another wordless communication, a mental impression transmitted from the mind of one of these beings.
"We understand," it conveyed. "You have but to speak for a few minutes and we shall be able to converse with you in your own tongue. Proceed."
Minott spoke slowly and distinctly. "Grayson," he said, "this is a remarkable demonstration of telepathy. Those of the great eyes possess the same power, but something tells me these Elsians, as I presume our fellow prisoners are called, have the keener intelligence though they are apparently at the mercy of the great-eyes. The ship is moving once more and I suppose we are being conveyed as captives of war along with these five who have just been incarcerated with us."
He spoke for perhaps five minutes along the same lines. Then he was interrupted by a gentle voice, a voice of singing quality that pronounced his own uncooth English in accents that made of it a language of smooth beauty.
"You have spoken truly," came the voice from out of the stygian darkness, "and sufficiently to enable us to converse with you. We have learned mental communication of the Prags, the great-eyes as you humorously termed them. But such communication is forbidden in all Els. We prefer the spoken word as we do not wish to evolve as have the Prags -- the pirates who prey on the entire universe and who have become hideous in appearance. From where do you come -- one of the satellites of Pra?"
"No," Minott responded. "We come from another solar system -- from a planet called Earth."
"From the system of Oc?" asked the gentle voice.
"No, from still further."
"Further than Oc?" The voice was frankly astonished now, but not incredulous.
"Yes, much further than Oc. As we measure distance in our land, it is but a fraction of an inch to our own home, but in your terms, which we know not, it is an unthinkable distance."
There was puzzlement in the reply and Grayson nudged his friend into silence. At that moment the blue glare of the lights dazzled them once more, and one of the Prags entered the narrow chamber. Then there was a gradual softening of the brilliancy until the earth visitors were able to make out clearly the ugly form of the Prag.
The short body, surmounted by the immense bulbous head that seemed to be all eyes, was clothed in a single baggy garment of leather through which the emaciated arms and legs projected. At the waist, the garment was drawn together by a broad sash, from which depended a wickedly curved knife and a glittering mechanism that appeared to be a hand weapon of some sort. The lidless eyes with their strange blue rims and bloodshot intensity peered through and through the prisoners from earth.
"You are to appear before the Kama," they were commanded by the thoughts of this creature.
Minott and Grayson, without volition and propelled by a power from without their consciousness, rose meekly and followed the Prag from the room, leaving behind them the softly muttering Elsians.
(continue to part 5)
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Shorter Zell Miller
Senator Zell Miller:
A National Party No More: The Conscience of a Conservative Democrat
A National Party No More: The Conscience of a Conservative Democrat
- By rejecting myself and my fellow white Southern hardcore bigots, the Democrats have doomed themselves to irrelevance.
(First published in 2003, Amazon now lists the following price information for this book: 103 new from $0.01, 240 used from $0.01.)
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Michael Steele uses the wrong metaphor
Talking Points Memo quotes the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel quoting RNC Chairman Michael Steele:
The big problem with Steele's "party at the party" metaphor is that it's wrong. He isn't inviting some guests over to his house to have a good time, snack on some chips, have a few beers. What he's trying to do is to persuade some workmen to come over and help him rebuild a house that he and his friends have just finished trashing.
"Sure, come on over," Steele says to an assembled group of carpenters, plumbers, and painters. "We'd love to have you over. We really need your help here, as you can see, because the place is a mess. It's going to take a lot of hard work, but with your help, we can make this place as good as new. What's that? Your pay? Oh no, we won't be paying you anything. You'll be doing this for free. After all, this is our house, not yours. Once you're finished work, your reward will be to stand around helplessly and watch me and my friends trash it again."
I'm going to go way out on a limb here and predict that Steele's appeal isn't going to work.
"All you moderates out there, y'all come. I mean, that's the message," Steele said at a news conference. "The message of this party is this is a big table for everyone to have a seat. I have a place setting with your name on the front.
"Understand that when you come into someone's house, you're not looking to change it. You come in because that's the place you want to be."
The big problem with Steele's "party at the party" metaphor is that it's wrong. He isn't inviting some guests over to his house to have a good time, snack on some chips, have a few beers. What he's trying to do is to persuade some workmen to come over and help him rebuild a house that he and his friends have just finished trashing.
"Sure, come on over," Steele says to an assembled group of carpenters, plumbers, and painters. "We'd love to have you over. We really need your help here, as you can see, because the place is a mess. It's going to take a lot of hard work, but with your help, we can make this place as good as new. What's that? Your pay? Oh no, we won't be paying you anything. You'll be doing this for free. After all, this is our house, not yours. Once you're finished work, your reward will be to stand around helplessly and watch me and my friends trash it again."
I'm going to go way out on a limb here and predict that Steele's appeal isn't going to work.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
"Microcosmic Buccaneers" by Harl Vincent, part 3
We now present the third installment of "Microcosmic Buccaneers" by Harl Vincent, published here for the first time since its initial appearance in the November 1929 issue of Amazing Stories magazine. The first two installments can be found here and here. And now, on to the story . . .
A Fatal Error
When Grayson R36B recovered consciousness it was slowly and with tortuous, futile attempts at raising himself to a seated position. He lay prone in some feathery, aromatic substance that was soft as down, but of so great a depth as to almost bury his body. His head ached abominably and his lids refused to open at first. Then suddenly he remembered, and he sat up quickly. He drew his hand across his forehead and brought it away covered with blood. Something had gone amiss with their experiment.
A feeble moan at his side caused him to search through the fuzzy substance that carpeted this strange realm and he came across the figure of his friend, Minott V8CA. He had been injured likewise, but they soon discovered that nothing more serious than broken scalps and minor bruises had been sustained by either. Then they arose and had their first sight of the new surroundings.
It was a brown and green landscape that met their view -- not greatly unlike the countryside of their own world as it had existed many centuries previously when it was thinly populated. The sward beneath their feet was of great depth and it was fine-stranded and soft like a woman's hair. But it was green -- a warm yellow green that was pleasing to the eyes of these city-bred mortals. At the edge of the clearing in which they stood there was a fringe of tall plant life closely akin to the trees of their own world. These had smooth trunks of a reddish brown hue and rose for a considerable distance before branching into foliage. The foliage itself was of the same warm green as the grass and massed about the tops of the trunks in round, symmetric clusters. The air was balmy and warm -- a gentle breeze stirred the soft carpet of the clearing into rippling waves that lapped at the shadows of the forest like the swells of a calm sea.
"What a beautiful place!" exclaimed Grayson, "But how is it that we were thrown here so heavily and that we did not arrive at the point on which the ray was focussed? There was a lake at that point, with a sandy beach and with habitations visible in the near distance."
Minott rubbed his bruises ruefully. "I see it all now," he exclaimed. "When we combined the Rollin apparatus with the super-microscope, the ray was deflected an infinitesimal amount by the introduction of our hyper-physical entities. We are probably quite some distance from the point of original focus and at quite a different elevation on the miniature world. That is why our landing was not so gentle."
Grayson had glanced at the sky and he gasped in utter amaze: "Why, there are three suns in the heavens!" he cried.
* * *
And such was the case. One shone hotly red and was exactly overhead. The other two, of smaller size, shone paler and with a colder light. These two were close together but fully fifteen degrees from the first and the net result in lighting their surroundings was a brilliance seemingly even greater than that of their own sun and of similar quality as regards color of the light. The multiple shadows lent a strange triple complement to their movements.
"Yes, I expected that," replied Minott. "This atom, which is now our universe, contains quite a number of protons of which these three are self luminous. If it were an atom of gold, whose atomic number is 79 and the atomic weight 179, there would be 79 protons in the nucleus. In addition there would be 118 neutrons to make up its weight. About the nucleus there would be 79 electrons to neutralize the 79 protons comprising the atomic number. Of course this universe is a much less complex one than an atom of gold, but it is far more complex than an atom of hydrogen, which consists of but one proton with a single electron to neutralize it."
"Then we must expect many things to be different than those existing at home?"
"Yes indeed, and interestingly so. And do you know, Grayson, we must make up our minds to remain in this place for we shall never be able to return to earth."
"What? We can not return?"
"No. I was far too optimistic in my setting of the time switch. According to my watchwe have been here nearly thirty minutes already. We were probably unconscious for a third of that. The apparatus has long since functioned and we are still here. Of course the ray of the super-microscope having been deflected from its true course by our advent, we were lost to it on its focus, which point we missed. We are doomed to remain."
Grayson gazed gloomily at his mentor. "Fine fix we are in," he commented.
"Yes. And it's all my fault for being too precipitate and not taking time to prepare more carefully."
The great scientist was so crestfallen that the young man burst into laughter. He threw an arm about the older man.
"After all," he said, "what does it matter? We have but little at home that we may not have here. Since both mother and father are gone I have no one but you -- and I still have you. There is your home and your position, of course, but insofar as family ties are concerned you are similarly situated. And we can make a place our ourselves right here. Probably we shall be better off."
"Bravely spoken, my boy," said Minott, with an answering hug. "And now suppose we explore a bit and orientate ourselves."
Undismayed, they set forth toward the forest.
For two hours they tramped through the unfamiliar multi-shadowed depths of the wood, stopping often to examine some new growth that was discovered. It appeared to be a trackless jungle, peopled only by furred and feathered creatures of small size and timid nature. Then suddenly they came out upon a road, a smooth highway of glistening metal that wound its way through the forest.
"Well, this is encouraging," said Minott. "All roads lead somewhere -- in both directions. Which shall we try?"
"The forest looks thinner to the right. Why not that way?"
"All right. Let's go."
With little thought to the future they trod the silvery road for several miles, as they would judge distance on earth. They were nearing the edge of the wood and were suddenly in the open.
The three suns had sunk so low that the two smaller ones were close to the horizon. The period of the first twilight was about to set in, but ahead of them in the slanting rays, there gleamed a magnificent city, a city of towering walls and great spires and domes, all constructed of the silvery metal on which they walked.
They stood spellbound for a moment before advancing further. Each was so impressed with the grandeur of the sight that neither spoke a word. Then there came a ringing command. Each was sure that no sound had broken the stillness, yet that command was heard as surely and clearly as if shouted in their ears.
"What was that?" asked Grayson in astonishment.
"You heard it too? It was a distinct command to stop, though I am sure there was no speaker."
"Exactly as it seemed to me."
Undecided they remained rooted to the spot for a space. Then Grayson took an experimental step. Again came that insistent demand and he withdrew the foot he had thrust forward.
Then there came a roar from the skies and a huge cylindrical vessel swooped directly before them, alighting on the metal surface of the road as lightly as a bird. The voice that was not a voice spoke to them once more.
"Approach closely," it commanded.
They obeyed in some little trepidation, drawing near to the strange conveyance and stopping as a small square opening appeared in the side nearest them.
"Enter," came the insistent, unspoken command.
They stepped through the opening into the cylinder.
(continue to part 4)
A Fatal Error
When Grayson R36B recovered consciousness it was slowly and with tortuous, futile attempts at raising himself to a seated position. He lay prone in some feathery, aromatic substance that was soft as down, but of so great a depth as to almost bury his body. His head ached abominably and his lids refused to open at first. Then suddenly he remembered, and he sat up quickly. He drew his hand across his forehead and brought it away covered with blood. Something had gone amiss with their experiment.
A feeble moan at his side caused him to search through the fuzzy substance that carpeted this strange realm and he came across the figure of his friend, Minott V8CA. He had been injured likewise, but they soon discovered that nothing more serious than broken scalps and minor bruises had been sustained by either. Then they arose and had their first sight of the new surroundings.
It was a brown and green landscape that met their view -- not greatly unlike the countryside of their own world as it had existed many centuries previously when it was thinly populated. The sward beneath their feet was of great depth and it was fine-stranded and soft like a woman's hair. But it was green -- a warm yellow green that was pleasing to the eyes of these city-bred mortals. At the edge of the clearing in which they stood there was a fringe of tall plant life closely akin to the trees of their own world. These had smooth trunks of a reddish brown hue and rose for a considerable distance before branching into foliage. The foliage itself was of the same warm green as the grass and massed about the tops of the trunks in round, symmetric clusters. The air was balmy and warm -- a gentle breeze stirred the soft carpet of the clearing into rippling waves that lapped at the shadows of the forest like the swells of a calm sea.
"What a beautiful place!" exclaimed Grayson, "But how is it that we were thrown here so heavily and that we did not arrive at the point on which the ray was focussed? There was a lake at that point, with a sandy beach and with habitations visible in the near distance."
Minott rubbed his bruises ruefully. "I see it all now," he exclaimed. "When we combined the Rollin apparatus with the super-microscope, the ray was deflected an infinitesimal amount by the introduction of our hyper-physical entities. We are probably quite some distance from the point of original focus and at quite a different elevation on the miniature world. That is why our landing was not so gentle."
Grayson had glanced at the sky and he gasped in utter amaze: "Why, there are three suns in the heavens!" he cried.
* * *
And such was the case. One shone hotly red and was exactly overhead. The other two, of smaller size, shone paler and with a colder light. These two were close together but fully fifteen degrees from the first and the net result in lighting their surroundings was a brilliance seemingly even greater than that of their own sun and of similar quality as regards color of the light. The multiple shadows lent a strange triple complement to their movements.
"Yes, I expected that," replied Minott. "This atom, which is now our universe, contains quite a number of protons of which these three are self luminous. If it were an atom of gold, whose atomic number is 79 and the atomic weight 179, there would be 79 protons in the nucleus. In addition there would be 118 neutrons to make up its weight. About the nucleus there would be 79 electrons to neutralize the 79 protons comprising the atomic number. Of course this universe is a much less complex one than an atom of gold, but it is far more complex than an atom of hydrogen, which consists of but one proton with a single electron to neutralize it."
"Then we must expect many things to be different than those existing at home?"
"Yes indeed, and interestingly so. And do you know, Grayson, we must make up our minds to remain in this place for we shall never be able to return to earth."
"What? We can not return?"
"No. I was far too optimistic in my setting of the time switch. According to my watchwe have been here nearly thirty minutes already. We were probably unconscious for a third of that. The apparatus has long since functioned and we are still here. Of course the ray of the super-microscope having been deflected from its true course by our advent, we were lost to it on its focus, which point we missed. We are doomed to remain."
Grayson gazed gloomily at his mentor. "Fine fix we are in," he commented.
"Yes. And it's all my fault for being too precipitate and not taking time to prepare more carefully."
The great scientist was so crestfallen that the young man burst into laughter. He threw an arm about the older man.
"After all," he said, "what does it matter? We have but little at home that we may not have here. Since both mother and father are gone I have no one but you -- and I still have you. There is your home and your position, of course, but insofar as family ties are concerned you are similarly situated. And we can make a place our ourselves right here. Probably we shall be better off."
"Bravely spoken, my boy," said Minott, with an answering hug. "And now suppose we explore a bit and orientate ourselves."
Undismayed, they set forth toward the forest.
For two hours they tramped through the unfamiliar multi-shadowed depths of the wood, stopping often to examine some new growth that was discovered. It appeared to be a trackless jungle, peopled only by furred and feathered creatures of small size and timid nature. Then suddenly they came out upon a road, a smooth highway of glistening metal that wound its way through the forest.
"Well, this is encouraging," said Minott. "All roads lead somewhere -- in both directions. Which shall we try?"
"The forest looks thinner to the right. Why not that way?"
"All right. Let's go."
With little thought to the future they trod the silvery road for several miles, as they would judge distance on earth. They were nearing the edge of the wood and were suddenly in the open.
The three suns had sunk so low that the two smaller ones were close to the horizon. The period of the first twilight was about to set in, but ahead of them in the slanting rays, there gleamed a magnificent city, a city of towering walls and great spires and domes, all constructed of the silvery metal on which they walked.
They stood spellbound for a moment before advancing further. Each was so impressed with the grandeur of the sight that neither spoke a word. Then there came a ringing command. Each was sure that no sound had broken the stillness, yet that command was heard as surely and clearly as if shouted in their ears.
"What was that?" asked Grayson in astonishment.
"You heard it too? It was a distinct command to stop, though I am sure there was no speaker."
"Exactly as it seemed to me."
Undecided they remained rooted to the spot for a space. Then Grayson took an experimental step. Again came that insistent demand and he withdrew the foot he had thrust forward.
Then there came a roar from the skies and a huge cylindrical vessel swooped directly before them, alighting on the metal surface of the road as lightly as a bird. The voice that was not a voice spoke to them once more.
"Approach closely," it commanded.
They obeyed in some little trepidation, drawing near to the strange conveyance and stopping as a small square opening appeared in the side nearest them.
"Enter," came the insistent, unspoken command.
They stepped through the opening into the cylinder.
(continue to part 4)
Thursday, April 30, 2009
The Huntsman for Redstate November
Publius at Obsidian Wings points to moderate Utah Governor Jon Huntsman as a potential 2012 Republican nominee. He notes that Huntsman will probably have the moderate side of the track pretty much to himself as Sarah Palin, "Bobby" Jindal, Mark Sanford, Mitt Romney, and Mike Huckabee all clump together on the conservative side, chasing the same pool of conservative "base" voters.
Publius ends his rumination wondering whether it's even possible for a moderate to win the Republican nomination at this point in the party's downward spiral, but I think it's not so improbable. After all, plenty of states have open primaries, so Huntsman will be able to count on the votes of unaffiliated moderates. And given that most of the GOP's primaries are winner-take-all, Huntsman could very well end up with a majority of delegates on the strength of those unaffiliated crossover voters.
Which would leave him . . . where? Well, as commenter superdestroyer points out, Huntsman's moderate positions on issues like, say, immigration reform (or, as wingnuts like superdestroyer call it, "open borders") put him at odds with the GOP's ever-smaller-and-more-extreme base. So what you'll end up with is a moderate candidate facing a convention (and party) that hates his guts. In order to avoid the problem of an unenthusiastic base, Huntsman would have to do what McCain did: choose a running mate that the base likes but the rest of the country finds appalling. McCain tried to square the circle by keeping Sarah Palin confined to her invitation-only Nuremburg rallies and hidden away from the sane three-quarters of the country, but it didn't work. The crazy leaked out and poisoned his campaign.
If Huntsman does win the nomination, he'll need to solve his version of the Palin Problem. And he's only got three and a half years until the 2012 Republican National Convention, so he'd better think fast.
Publius ends his rumination wondering whether it's even possible for a moderate to win the Republican nomination at this point in the party's downward spiral, but I think it's not so improbable. After all, plenty of states have open primaries, so Huntsman will be able to count on the votes of unaffiliated moderates. And given that most of the GOP's primaries are winner-take-all, Huntsman could very well end up with a majority of delegates on the strength of those unaffiliated crossover voters.
Which would leave him . . . where? Well, as commenter superdestroyer points out, Huntsman's moderate positions on issues like, say, immigration reform (or, as wingnuts like superdestroyer call it, "open borders") put him at odds with the GOP's ever-smaller-and-more-extreme base. So what you'll end up with is a moderate candidate facing a convention (and party) that hates his guts. In order to avoid the problem of an unenthusiastic base, Huntsman would have to do what McCain did: choose a running mate that the base likes but the rest of the country finds appalling. McCain tried to square the circle by keeping Sarah Palin confined to her invitation-only Nuremburg rallies and hidden away from the sane three-quarters of the country, but it didn't work. The crazy leaked out and poisoned his campaign.
If Huntsman does win the nomination, he'll need to solve his version of the Palin Problem. And he's only got three and a half years until the 2012 Republican National Convention, so he'd better think fast.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
The sinews of politics
The first report in our ongoing Michael Steele Deathwatch comes from the Moonie Times (h/t Pam at Pandagon), which reports that "Randy Pullen, the RNC’s elected treasurer, former RNC General Counsel David Norcross and three other former top RNC officers have presented Mr. Steele with a resolution, calling for a new set of checks and balances on the chairman’s power to dole out money."
Four years ago, after the DFH's managed to get Howard Dean elected as Chairman of the Democratic National Committee, probably the most important thing Dean did was distribute oodles of money to the state parties so they could ramp up their party-building efforts. This move was applauded by rank-and-file Democrats and condemned by the party's Beltway mandarins, who sneered that Dean was "just hiring a bunch of staff people to wander around Utah and Mississippi and pick their nose." Dean meant his "Fifty-State Strategy" to be a long-term effort, so probably nobody was more surprised than Dean himself when his efforts bore fruit in two short years, resulting in the Democrats' regaining control of Congress.
Admittedly, Michael Steele's first few months on the job has seen the GOP lurch from one disaster to the next, with yesterday's defection of Senator Arlen Specter acting as a sort of grand crescendo, so you can see why they'd be growing wary. But never fear! It looks like those clever Republicans are going to make sure their new chairman doesn't spend any money hiring a bunch of staff people to wander around California and Massachusetts and pick their nose, so we can expect things to turn around for the Republican Party any day now.
Four years ago, after the DFH's managed to get Howard Dean elected as Chairman of the Democratic National Committee, probably the most important thing Dean did was distribute oodles of money to the state parties so they could ramp up their party-building efforts. This move was applauded by rank-and-file Democrats and condemned by the party's Beltway mandarins, who sneered that Dean was "just hiring a bunch of staff people to wander around Utah and Mississippi and pick their nose." Dean meant his "Fifty-State Strategy" to be a long-term effort, so probably nobody was more surprised than Dean himself when his efforts bore fruit in two short years, resulting in the Democrats' regaining control of Congress.
Admittedly, Michael Steele's first few months on the job has seen the GOP lurch from one disaster to the next, with yesterday's defection of Senator Arlen Specter acting as a sort of grand crescendo, so you can see why they'd be growing wary. But never fear! It looks like those clever Republicans are going to make sure their new chairman doesn't spend any money hiring a bunch of staff people to wander around California and Massachusetts and pick their nose, so we can expect things to turn around for the Republican Party any day now.
Beware, liberals!
Beware, liberals! Michelle Bachmann will destroy you all with her razor-sharp wit, deep fund of historical knowledge, and amazing powers of logical deduction!
Monday, April 27, 2009
High Broderism
Washington Post columnist David Broder, Dean of the Washington Press Corps and high priest of High Broderism, warns President Obama not to give in to those awful vengeful people who want to investigate, perhaps prosecute, and possibly even punish the Bushies who made torture (or "torture" as Broder puts it) national policy. Bear in mind this is the same David Broder who called on President Clinton to resign and cheered on Republicans intent on impeaching him because said President Clinton had a quickie with an intern.
Now, if I were a cynical person, I might think that David Broder was nothing more than a worthless partisan hack who was willing to excuse any misconduct as long as it was committed by Republicans. However, I am a stranger to cynicism, so I'll just assume that Broder is actually a moral cripple who genuinely believes that sex is more deserving of punishment than torture.
Now, if I were a cynical person, I might think that David Broder was nothing more than a worthless partisan hack who was willing to excuse any misconduct as long as it was committed by Republicans. However, I am a stranger to cynicism, so I'll just assume that Broder is actually a moral cripple who genuinely believes that sex is more deserving of punishment than torture.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
"Microcosmic Buccaneers" by Harl Vincent, part 2
This is the second installment of Harl Vincent's "Microcosmic Buccaneers", a science fiction story that has never appeared anywhere beyond its original publication in the November 1929 issue of Amazing Stories magazine. Part 1 can be found here. And now, on to the story . . .
By Means of the Fourth Dimension
With the passing of four months the scientist found himself little closer to the solution of the problem than when it was first presented. Experiments with white mice as subjects had progressed to the point where these lively creatures had been reduced to the size of blood corpuscles, a dozen or more of them scampering about in an opening the size of a pin point indented in a thin paraffin coating on a microscope slide. They were still far from their goal and the young man, who had assisted with all the work, was on the point of despairing entirely.
Then there came a day when Grayson R36B was startled from his observation of the electron world through the super-microscope, by an ecstatic shout from his guardian.
"What is it?" he asked excitedly.
"We've been working on an entirely wrong basis, Grayson. But now I see the light. The fourth dimension!"
"Fourth dimension," repeated his ward, blankly.
"Certainly. I don't know why I haven't thought of it before. We'll visit the tiny planet by its agency."
"But -- but I thought the fourth dimension was only a mathematical conception -- that there was no real knowledge of it."
"You are quite right, my boy, as far as any published data is concerned. But there have been experiments -- successful ones, too -- that were apparently of no practical use. Now we have the practical use. You understand, of course, that even though you do not perceive a fourth dimension, all objects in our universe must be possessed of this abstruse quality in order to exist. We live and breathe in a four-dimensional world that is part of a four-dimensional universe. The so-called dimension has been variously explained but for our purpose we need not enter into any of the various arguments which have been brought up. It is not time in the strict sense that we are interested in, but the time-space relationship, and it is that relationship I intend to employ in entering that little world at which you have been gazing."
"You mean, if the time-space relationship as applied to our physical existence is altered, we shall then have no difficulty in making the journey?"
"That is it exactly, my boy. We as human beings are four-dimensional entities peculiarly adapted to life in our own environment. These entities occupy space in a definite volume we are pleased to designate by three dimensions. But the interval, the time-space relationship, is what makes us as we are. Size is only relative and if everything in the universe were suddenly to become a million times larger or a million times smaller, we should not be aware of the difference for our standards of measurement would also have altered in like proportion."
"But how to effect such a change?"
"I'm coming to that. There is a plane which in 3281 was designated by Rollin D4Y as the hyperphysical plane. And Rollin experimented at considerable length in rotating objects in and out of this plane by various methods. In the most successful of the methods used, a purely mechanical means, he found it possible to rotate living creatures instantaneously into and out of the hyperphysical existence without harm. By instantaneous, I mean that the transition must take place within the peroid of not more than two or three heart-beats of the subject. We shall go further than did Rollin. We shall not only enter the hyperphysical plane, but shall project ourselves into the delectable world of the microcosmos and there emerge as entities adaptable to the greatly different existence."
Grayson's eyes popped. "You think it can be done?" he gasped.
"I'm sure of it. And quite simply too."
Minott hurried to a large cupboard at the side of the laboratory and there brought to view a dust-covered apparatus that Grayson had never seen. This was provided with a box-like base set on four casters and it was trundled forth byt he excited scientist.
"A duplicate of Rollin's apparatus," he explained, busying himself with a duster.
* * *
Grayson watched in intense interest as the older man uncovered the upper portion of the mechanism. There was a huge vacuum tube, one of the largest he had ever seen, and about this there clustered a maze of helices of tiny silver ribbon. Two arms swung out from the side of the box, and each of these carried what appeared to be a parabolic reflector, also of silver. These was a heavy cable to which a wall plug was attached, and Minott connected this with a base receptacle nearby. He withdrew a slide from the side of the box and arranged the two reflectors to focus on the slide. Then he reached for one of the small cages containing a normal white mouse and this he placed on the slide. With all arranged to his satisfaction, he pulled a switch at the side of the mechanism. There came a roar from within and the great vacuum tube lighted to a dull red glow. The mouse scampered unconcerned in its cage.
"Now, observe closely," said Minott, placing his finger on a small button that Grayson had not noticed.
He pressed the button and the universe seemed to totter. The very space about them seemed to warp and twist. The lively creature in the little cage vanished as suddenly and utterly as if a genie had whisked it away. Grayson stared dumbfounded. A second passed. Two seconds. Then, in a puff of blue haze, the mouse once more nosed about in its coop. The accompanying wrench of the space in which they stood left Grayson trembling and aghast.
"Good grief!" he exclaimed. "There's strong medicine in that box all right! So that's the way we are going?"
"Yes. Excepting we must combine Rollin's apparatus with my super-microscope."
"Combine it?"
"Of course. Otherwise we should not reach our destination; we would merely return to our normal existence, as did our little subject. With our existence transferred to the hyperphysical plane, we'll be whisked along the minute ray of the super-microscope, which is now trained on the place we are to visit. In reentering the purely physical plane, our time-space relationship must necessarily alter in exact accordance with the requirements of the microcosmos."
"And the return? Getting back to our own world, I mean."
Minott was already busy with the connections between the two mechanisms. He did not look up from his work as he replied, "Oh, for the initial visit I shall set a time switch to control our apparatus here. We'll stay but two minutes and then return in the same manner. After the first trip, a better method can be worked out. But in any event it is merely a reversal of the original process. Are you ready?"
He looked at the younger man with a twinkle in his eye.
"Now? Right away, you mean?"
"Yes. All is prepared."
"Why, sure, I'm ready if you are."
"Very well, then. We'll be off at once."
He made the final adjustments to the apparatus, directing the reflectors of the Rollin mechanism to include a tiny disc he had attached to the super-microscope. Grayson was somewhat apprehensive as he watched the attaching and setting of the time switch, but he had no thought of reconsidering or of objecting.
"All right, Gray," came in measured tones, as the scientist straightened from the completion of his task.
He drew the younger man into the proper position before the apparatus and thew an arm affectionately over his shoulder as he reached forth with his free hand to close the main switch and press the button. This time it seemed to Grayson that the very fibres of his being were wrenched asunder. There was a terrific flash of blinding light, an inconceivably violent explosion, and then a momentary impression of being hurled through the vastness of space. He opened his eyes to the glare of sunlight and instinctively ducked his head at the sight of a heavy object rushing to meet him. There was a sickening thud and his senses left him completely.
(continue to part 3)
By Means of the Fourth Dimension
With the passing of four months the scientist found himself little closer to the solution of the problem than when it was first presented. Experiments with white mice as subjects had progressed to the point where these lively creatures had been reduced to the size of blood corpuscles, a dozen or more of them scampering about in an opening the size of a pin point indented in a thin paraffin coating on a microscope slide. They were still far from their goal and the young man, who had assisted with all the work, was on the point of despairing entirely.
Then there came a day when Grayson R36B was startled from his observation of the electron world through the super-microscope, by an ecstatic shout from his guardian.
"What is it?" he asked excitedly.
"We've been working on an entirely wrong basis, Grayson. But now I see the light. The fourth dimension!"
"Fourth dimension," repeated his ward, blankly.
"Certainly. I don't know why I haven't thought of it before. We'll visit the tiny planet by its agency."
"But -- but I thought the fourth dimension was only a mathematical conception -- that there was no real knowledge of it."
"You are quite right, my boy, as far as any published data is concerned. But there have been experiments -- successful ones, too -- that were apparently of no practical use. Now we have the practical use. You understand, of course, that even though you do not perceive a fourth dimension, all objects in our universe must be possessed of this abstruse quality in order to exist. We live and breathe in a four-dimensional world that is part of a four-dimensional universe. The so-called dimension has been variously explained but for our purpose we need not enter into any of the various arguments which have been brought up. It is not time in the strict sense that we are interested in, but the time-space relationship, and it is that relationship I intend to employ in entering that little world at which you have been gazing."
"You mean, if the time-space relationship as applied to our physical existence is altered, we shall then have no difficulty in making the journey?"
"That is it exactly, my boy. We as human beings are four-dimensional entities peculiarly adapted to life in our own environment. These entities occupy space in a definite volume we are pleased to designate by three dimensions. But the interval, the time-space relationship, is what makes us as we are. Size is only relative and if everything in the universe were suddenly to become a million times larger or a million times smaller, we should not be aware of the difference for our standards of measurement would also have altered in like proportion."
"But how to effect such a change?"
"I'm coming to that. There is a plane which in 3281 was designated by Rollin D4Y as the hyperphysical plane. And Rollin experimented at considerable length in rotating objects in and out of this plane by various methods. In the most successful of the methods used, a purely mechanical means, he found it possible to rotate living creatures instantaneously into and out of the hyperphysical existence without harm. By instantaneous, I mean that the transition must take place within the peroid of not more than two or three heart-beats of the subject. We shall go further than did Rollin. We shall not only enter the hyperphysical plane, but shall project ourselves into the delectable world of the microcosmos and there emerge as entities adaptable to the greatly different existence."
Grayson's eyes popped. "You think it can be done?" he gasped.
"I'm sure of it. And quite simply too."
Minott hurried to a large cupboard at the side of the laboratory and there brought to view a dust-covered apparatus that Grayson had never seen. This was provided with a box-like base set on four casters and it was trundled forth byt he excited scientist.
"A duplicate of Rollin's apparatus," he explained, busying himself with a duster.
* * *
Grayson watched in intense interest as the older man uncovered the upper portion of the mechanism. There was a huge vacuum tube, one of the largest he had ever seen, and about this there clustered a maze of helices of tiny silver ribbon. Two arms swung out from the side of the box, and each of these carried what appeared to be a parabolic reflector, also of silver. These was a heavy cable to which a wall plug was attached, and Minott connected this with a base receptacle nearby. He withdrew a slide from the side of the box and arranged the two reflectors to focus on the slide. Then he reached for one of the small cages containing a normal white mouse and this he placed on the slide. With all arranged to his satisfaction, he pulled a switch at the side of the mechanism. There came a roar from within and the great vacuum tube lighted to a dull red glow. The mouse scampered unconcerned in its cage.
"Now, observe closely," said Minott, placing his finger on a small button that Grayson had not noticed.
He pressed the button and the universe seemed to totter. The very space about them seemed to warp and twist. The lively creature in the little cage vanished as suddenly and utterly as if a genie had whisked it away. Grayson stared dumbfounded. A second passed. Two seconds. Then, in a puff of blue haze, the mouse once more nosed about in its coop. The accompanying wrench of the space in which they stood left Grayson trembling and aghast.
"Good grief!" he exclaimed. "There's strong medicine in that box all right! So that's the way we are going?"
"Yes. Excepting we must combine Rollin's apparatus with my super-microscope."
"Combine it?"
"Of course. Otherwise we should not reach our destination; we would merely return to our normal existence, as did our little subject. With our existence transferred to the hyperphysical plane, we'll be whisked along the minute ray of the super-microscope, which is now trained on the place we are to visit. In reentering the purely physical plane, our time-space relationship must necessarily alter in exact accordance with the requirements of the microcosmos."
"And the return? Getting back to our own world, I mean."
Minott was already busy with the connections between the two mechanisms. He did not look up from his work as he replied, "Oh, for the initial visit I shall set a time switch to control our apparatus here. We'll stay but two minutes and then return in the same manner. After the first trip, a better method can be worked out. But in any event it is merely a reversal of the original process. Are you ready?"
He looked at the younger man with a twinkle in his eye.
"Now? Right away, you mean?"
"Yes. All is prepared."
"Why, sure, I'm ready if you are."
"Very well, then. We'll be off at once."
He made the final adjustments to the apparatus, directing the reflectors of the Rollin mechanism to include a tiny disc he had attached to the super-microscope. Grayson was somewhat apprehensive as he watched the attaching and setting of the time switch, but he had no thought of reconsidering or of objecting.
"All right, Gray," came in measured tones, as the scientist straightened from the completion of his task.
He drew the younger man into the proper position before the apparatus and thew an arm affectionately over his shoulder as he reached forth with his free hand to close the main switch and press the button. This time it seemed to Grayson that the very fibres of his being were wrenched asunder. There was a terrific flash of blinding light, an inconceivably violent explosion, and then a momentary impression of being hurled through the vastness of space. He opened his eyes to the glare of sunlight and instinctively ducked his head at the sight of a heavy object rushing to meet him. There was a sickening thud and his senses left him completely.
(continue to part 3)
Friday, April 24, 2009
"Microcosmic Buccaneers" by Harl Vincent, part 1
"Microcosmic Buccaneers" is the third story by Harl Vincent that the Johnny Pez blog will be re"print"ing. Like the rest of the early work of this pioneer of magazine science fiction, "Microcosmic Buccaneers" has long since passed into the public domain. And like the previous stories that have appeared here, this is its first "publication" since its initial appearance in the pulp magazines.
"Microcosmic Buccaneers" appeared in the November 1929 issue of Amazing Stories, about eight months after Amazing's founder, Hugo Gernsback, lost control of it and his various other business concerns in a forced bankruptcy. Although Gernsback quickly established another set of science fiction magazines, the new publishers of Amazing had a more enlightened payment policy than its founder (which is to say, they actually did so), so Vincent preferred submitting his stories to them. The post-Gernsback Amazing eventually published twenty-eight of Vincent's stories from 1929 to 1942.
As I've noted before, Harl Vincent was the pen name of Harold Vincent Schoepflin, a mechanical engineer employed by Westinghouse. When Amazing Stories first came out, Vincent, like many of the new magazine's readers, felt compelled to write his own science fiction stories. Unlike most of the others, he proved to have a talent for writing, and his stories began seeing print, starting with "The Golden Girl of Munan" in the June 1928 issue. "Microcosmic Buccaneers" was his tenth published story.
As with Vincent's previous stories, I'll be publishing "Microcosmic Buccaneers" in a blog-friendly multipart format. Here, then, is part 1:
Microcosmic Buccaneers
by Harl Vincent
An Astounding Discovery
It was utterly incomprehensible, yet it was true. They had seen it with their own eyes. Young Grayson R36B stared at his father's friend with amazement written large on his lean, bronze countenance. Minott V8CA, Director of Physical Research of the eighth Terrestrial district, returned the stare with something of awe in his tired gray eyes.
"Grayson, my boy" he said, "we have succeeded beyond my most optimistic hopes. We have delved into the secrets of the microcosmos. We have located one of the innumerable universes and have there found an inconceivably minute world with its own sun, moon and stars, and peopled by living, thinking creatures who resemble the white race of our earth in physical appearance. It is quite unthinkable, but here in the evidence."
He glanced again into the eyepiece of the massive instrument before which they stood.
"I still can not understand it," remarked the younger man, slowly and with a perplexed frown. "Of course I am as yet ignorant of all excepting the mere rudiments of science. But it seems to me I have read, or perhaps you have told me, that these electrons, of which our infinitesimal world is one, are traveling at great speed even in matter of considerable density. How, then, can your super-microscope view these objects as if they were stationary?"
"That is a feature I neglected to mention. The initial magnification, as I believe I told you, is accomplished by a powerful ray of vibrations. This ray impinges on the object to be viewed and is the first stage of magnification in the system which gives us such enormous powers. The ray, inb addition to giving us the first ten thousand diameters, has the property of following the motions of which you speak. Its far end oscillates in exact harmony with the motions of the molecule or atom or electron as the case may be, while the source of the ray remains stationary and thus impresses a stationary image on the object reflector to the second stage of the instrument."
Grayson R36B nodded in comprehension, though he was unable to picture in his mind's eye such movements of a ray so small as to be unmeasurable and, in fact, invisible in a high power microscope of standard type. This was but one of the many things he had yet to learn. But he found the mysteries of science intensely interesting as propounded by his mentor, and he looked forward happily to many years of such association with the great man into whose care he had been legally placed at the death of his father, two years ago.
"What is the next step?" he asked.
Minott V8CA pondered the question. He had been wondering over the same subject. He was not satisfied with knowing as little as they had been able to see of the inhabitants of the tiny world now visible in the eyepiece of his instrument. He wanted to view them from still closer, to learn more of their lives and of their history. He replied, half jesting, "I should like to pay them a visit."
"Pay them a visit? But that is impossible."
"Nothing is impossible. We are living in the thirty-third century, my boy. Fifteen centuries ago it was thought impossible that man would ever fly -- mind you, fly in the atmosphere like a bird. Ten centuries ago it was thought that gravity could never be counteracted or overcome. And less than five centuries ago a trip to one of the planets was held to be the height of ridiculous imagination. Yet all of these things have been accomplished, and much more. No, I would not say the trip is impossible."
"But it is hardly probable, is it?"
"Hardly. Though the thing merits consideration."
The great scientist mused further. His young protege let his mind dwell upon the bizarre possibility suggested by the older man. There was no more adventure in the world, he ruminated. Some of the ancient sound films, that had been used as a part of his education, portrayed stirring events of the distant past. Adventures had been commonplace in those heroic days -- ocean flights in tiny, wind-buffeted vessels that looked as though they would never weather the storms -- struggles of man against the wilderness, building huge dams across turbulent rivers or erecting strange steel towers that carried power lines through well-nigh impenetrable jungles. Wars and rebellions in remote provinces had likewise appealed to him. But in his own day there was none of that, none of the excitement that had been the lot of adventurous youth in the dark ages. There were no storms now to buffet the gigantic air liners crossing the oceans, for science had conquered the weather. There was no wilderness nor jungle. Nor were their remote provinces, where battles might be fought and deeds of valor might be performed. The world was entirely civilized and overpopulated. Several generations back it had been considered somewhat of an adventure to make a trip to Mars or to Venus, but even this no longer provided excitement, for these planets were now but a few hours away and were so like earth in civilization and appearance as to present no novelty for a visiting terrestrial. Now here was a new possibility in the microcosmos -- and who knew how many more of the tiny worlds might be inhabited? But he could not bring himself to seriously consider the probability of ever reaching one of them.
"Grayson," spoke the older man, interrupting his line of thought, "I intend to do some heavy thinking over this thing. You know the control of our physical size is a comparatively simple matter now, within limits. Of course we have standardized six feet three inches as a man's stature and five feet eleven as a woman's, but there is no reason this might not be altered greatly if desired. By the use of one of the hormones of the pituitary gland we might grow giants of eight feet stature and by causing certain endocrine deficiencies it is possible to dwarf a man to a fourth of normal height. By similar processes it might be that we could contrive to reduce ourselves to the dimensions necessary for life on our newly found electron world."
"You really think something might be done?"
"Might be is the proper term. It is far from being a simple matter. But, as I said before, I shall think about it seriously."
"Supposing it were possible to reduce our bodies to the proper size. We should then be the distance of many universes from that grain of sand which contains our Lilliputian world. We might as well be at the edge of our own galactic universe. How would we ever reach it?"
"That is probably the most difficult part of the problem, and the one requiring the most thought. But it must be susceptible to solution, if not in our lifetime at least at some future date."
Grayson's delight at the words of his guardian was evident in his eyes and it abated but little at the further warning that all this talk of visiting the populated electron was extremely fanciful. And that night he dreamed of green forests and of running streams and of all those things that had existed for him only in history and in carefully preserved picturings. For Grayson R36B was not yet twenty-five years of age.
(continue to part 2)
"Microcosmic Buccaneers" appeared in the November 1929 issue of Amazing Stories, about eight months after Amazing's founder, Hugo Gernsback, lost control of it and his various other business concerns in a forced bankruptcy. Although Gernsback quickly established another set of science fiction magazines, the new publishers of Amazing had a more enlightened payment policy than its founder (which is to say, they actually did so), so Vincent preferred submitting his stories to them. The post-Gernsback Amazing eventually published twenty-eight of Vincent's stories from 1929 to 1942.
As I've noted before, Harl Vincent was the pen name of Harold Vincent Schoepflin, a mechanical engineer employed by Westinghouse. When Amazing Stories first came out, Vincent, like many of the new magazine's readers, felt compelled to write his own science fiction stories. Unlike most of the others, he proved to have a talent for writing, and his stories began seeing print, starting with "The Golden Girl of Munan" in the June 1928 issue. "Microcosmic Buccaneers" was his tenth published story.
As with Vincent's previous stories, I'll be publishing "Microcosmic Buccaneers" in a blog-friendly multipart format. Here, then, is part 1:
Microcosmic Buccaneers
by Harl Vincent
An Astounding Discovery
It was utterly incomprehensible, yet it was true. They had seen it with their own eyes. Young Grayson R36B stared at his father's friend with amazement written large on his lean, bronze countenance. Minott V8CA, Director of Physical Research of the eighth Terrestrial district, returned the stare with something of awe in his tired gray eyes.
"Grayson, my boy" he said, "we have succeeded beyond my most optimistic hopes. We have delved into the secrets of the microcosmos. We have located one of the innumerable universes and have there found an inconceivably minute world with its own sun, moon and stars, and peopled by living, thinking creatures who resemble the white race of our earth in physical appearance. It is quite unthinkable, but here in the evidence."
He glanced again into the eyepiece of the massive instrument before which they stood.
"I still can not understand it," remarked the younger man, slowly and with a perplexed frown. "Of course I am as yet ignorant of all excepting the mere rudiments of science. But it seems to me I have read, or perhaps you have told me, that these electrons, of which our infinitesimal world is one, are traveling at great speed even in matter of considerable density. How, then, can your super-microscope view these objects as if they were stationary?"
"That is a feature I neglected to mention. The initial magnification, as I believe I told you, is accomplished by a powerful ray of vibrations. This ray impinges on the object to be viewed and is the first stage of magnification in the system which gives us such enormous powers. The ray, inb addition to giving us the first ten thousand diameters, has the property of following the motions of which you speak. Its far end oscillates in exact harmony with the motions of the molecule or atom or electron as the case may be, while the source of the ray remains stationary and thus impresses a stationary image on the object reflector to the second stage of the instrument."
Grayson R36B nodded in comprehension, though he was unable to picture in his mind's eye such movements of a ray so small as to be unmeasurable and, in fact, invisible in a high power microscope of standard type. This was but one of the many things he had yet to learn. But he found the mysteries of science intensely interesting as propounded by his mentor, and he looked forward happily to many years of such association with the great man into whose care he had been legally placed at the death of his father, two years ago.
"What is the next step?" he asked.
Minott V8CA pondered the question. He had been wondering over the same subject. He was not satisfied with knowing as little as they had been able to see of the inhabitants of the tiny world now visible in the eyepiece of his instrument. He wanted to view them from still closer, to learn more of their lives and of their history. He replied, half jesting, "I should like to pay them a visit."
"Pay them a visit? But that is impossible."
"Nothing is impossible. We are living in the thirty-third century, my boy. Fifteen centuries ago it was thought impossible that man would ever fly -- mind you, fly in the atmosphere like a bird. Ten centuries ago it was thought that gravity could never be counteracted or overcome. And less than five centuries ago a trip to one of the planets was held to be the height of ridiculous imagination. Yet all of these things have been accomplished, and much more. No, I would not say the trip is impossible."
"But it is hardly probable, is it?"
"Hardly. Though the thing merits consideration."
The great scientist mused further. His young protege let his mind dwell upon the bizarre possibility suggested by the older man. There was no more adventure in the world, he ruminated. Some of the ancient sound films, that had been used as a part of his education, portrayed stirring events of the distant past. Adventures had been commonplace in those heroic days -- ocean flights in tiny, wind-buffeted vessels that looked as though they would never weather the storms -- struggles of man against the wilderness, building huge dams across turbulent rivers or erecting strange steel towers that carried power lines through well-nigh impenetrable jungles. Wars and rebellions in remote provinces had likewise appealed to him. But in his own day there was none of that, none of the excitement that had been the lot of adventurous youth in the dark ages. There were no storms now to buffet the gigantic air liners crossing the oceans, for science had conquered the weather. There was no wilderness nor jungle. Nor were their remote provinces, where battles might be fought and deeds of valor might be performed. The world was entirely civilized and overpopulated. Several generations back it had been considered somewhat of an adventure to make a trip to Mars or to Venus, but even this no longer provided excitement, for these planets were now but a few hours away and were so like earth in civilization and appearance as to present no novelty for a visiting terrestrial. Now here was a new possibility in the microcosmos -- and who knew how many more of the tiny worlds might be inhabited? But he could not bring himself to seriously consider the probability of ever reaching one of them.
"Grayson," spoke the older man, interrupting his line of thought, "I intend to do some heavy thinking over this thing. You know the control of our physical size is a comparatively simple matter now, within limits. Of course we have standardized six feet three inches as a man's stature and five feet eleven as a woman's, but there is no reason this might not be altered greatly if desired. By the use of one of the hormones of the pituitary gland we might grow giants of eight feet stature and by causing certain endocrine deficiencies it is possible to dwarf a man to a fourth of normal height. By similar processes it might be that we could contrive to reduce ourselves to the dimensions necessary for life on our newly found electron world."
"You really think something might be done?"
"Might be is the proper term. It is far from being a simple matter. But, as I said before, I shall think about it seriously."
"Supposing it were possible to reduce our bodies to the proper size. We should then be the distance of many universes from that grain of sand which contains our Lilliputian world. We might as well be at the edge of our own galactic universe. How would we ever reach it?"
"That is probably the most difficult part of the problem, and the one requiring the most thought. But it must be susceptible to solution, if not in our lifetime at least at some future date."
Grayson's delight at the words of his guardian was evident in his eyes and it abated but little at the further warning that all this talk of visiting the populated electron was extremely fanciful. And that night he dreamed of green forests and of running streams and of all those things that had existed for him only in history and in carefully preserved picturings. For Grayson R36B was not yet twenty-five years of age.
(continue to part 2)
Michael Steele Deathwatch
Way back in the heady days of February, when Jim Tedisco had a twelve point lead in the polls, several Republicans claimed that the special election in New York state's twentieth congressional district was going to be a referendum on Barack Obama. There was even some talk about how if Tedisco lost the race, the Republican National Committee would meet in a special session to vote Chairman Michael Steele out.
Well.
Twenty-four days after the election, Jim Tedisco has finally conceded. Democrat Scott Murphy is going to be serving out the rest of Kirsten Gillibrand's term in the House of Representatives. The referendum on Barack Obama has come and gone, and Obama passed.
And Michael Steele? Well, he just oversaw a Republican loss in a district where Republicans outnumber Democrats by a 70,000 voter margin. If his numerous enemies within the GOP hierarchy are determined to take him down, the loss of this race is just the excuse they need. So how long does Steele have? Six months? Six weeks? Six days?
Stay tuned as we here at the Johnny Pez blog maintain the Michael Steele Deathwatch.
Well.
Twenty-four days after the election, Jim Tedisco has finally conceded. Democrat Scott Murphy is going to be serving out the rest of Kirsten Gillibrand's term in the House of Representatives. The referendum on Barack Obama has come and gone, and Obama passed.
And Michael Steele? Well, he just oversaw a Republican loss in a district where Republicans outnumber Democrats by a 70,000 voter margin. If his numerous enemies within the GOP hierarchy are determined to take him down, the loss of this race is just the excuse they need. So how long does Steele have? Six months? Six weeks? Six days?
Stay tuned as we here at the Johnny Pez blog maintain the Michael Steele Deathwatch.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Carnival of the Liberals #89
Welcome back, my friends, to the show that never ends! It's the 89th edition of the Carnival of the Liberals, the fortnightly best of the left blogosphere, coming to you live and direct from the streets of Newport, Rhode Island here at the Johnny Pez blog.
I'd like to thank everyone who participated . . . my inbox may never be the same. Two weeks is too short a time to spend among such excellent and admirable bloggers. I know less than half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than . . . hold on a moment.
Sorry. Wrong speech. Just a second . . . ah, here we go. Ahem.
When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one blogger to assume among the powers of the blogosphere the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and the Flying Spaghetti Monster entitle him, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind require that he should declare the causes which impel him to host a blog carnival.
I hold these truths to be self-evident: that all blogs are created equal, that they are endowed by their creators with certain unalienable Attributes, that among these are Relevance, Wit, and the pursuit of Page Views. That to display these attributes, Blog Carnivals are instituted within the Blogosphere, deriving their just powers from the consent of the participants.
To prove this, let Blog Posts be submitted to a candid world.
Speaking of Submitted to a Candid World, do you remember back in 2005 a few months after Bush's second inauguration when Bernie Sanders defended Vermont's right to secede from the United States? No? Well, maybe that's because he wasn't crazy. But Ron Paul is, as Ames reveals in "Are You Smarter than a Sitting Congressman? Ron Paul Edition".
Next comes Melanie Pinkert of the BroadSnark blog, who dares to ask the forbidden question: what's so bad about collective action? She gives the question a good solid, erm, questioning in her post "Individual Effort vs. Collective Action".
Jill at The Barefoot Badger gives a quick history of how General Motors eliminated electric trolleys (and incidentally crippled America's public transportation system) in order to clear the way for their cars in "The Murder of Public Transportation in the United States".
Doctor Biobrain at American Nihilist welcomes MSNBC host and torture enthusiast Joe Scarborough to the ranks of the nihilists following Morning Joe's call for a comparison between torture and nuclear fireballs in "Media Hero of the Day: Joe Scarborough".
Martin at the UK blog The Lay Scientist brings word of an epic battle between a fundie group called Christian Voice and Britain's Advertising Standards Authority in "Christian Voice, the HPV Vaccine and Freedom of Speech". Apparently it's considered unacceptable in the UK to lie in advertisements, proof (as if more proof were needed) that Old Europe is sunk in tyranny. Although I'm disappointed that Martin didn't title his post "Help! I'm being repressed!" I'm including it here anyway.
GrrlScientist is Living the Scientific Life, and brings to our attention "HR669: The Nonnative Wildlife Invasion Prevention Act". Although HR669 seems like a much-needed and environmentally friendly bill, GrrlScientist fears the bill is both grossly misguided and poorly thought out, and explains why.
More scientific goodness comes from Eric Michael Johnson of The Primate Diaries. Johnson points out in "Male Chauvinist Chimps or the Meat Market of Public Opinion?" that establishment media outlets were too eager to make sexist jokes to pay attention to the actual findings of a study examining meat sharing by chimpanzee hunting parties.
Greta Christina of Greta Christina's Blog responds to the teabaggers' incessant, eternal whining about taxes by writing "In Praise of Taxes" and sounding about a hundred times more sensible and mature than any teabagger has managed to do. So put that in your teabag and smoke it!
Paul Sunstone of Café Philos blogs about fellow blogger Bill of Earthling Blues. Bill has very cleverly taken some Mormon propaganda directed against gays and inverted it to produce some gay propaganda directed against Mormons in "Helping Those With Mormon Interests".
Finally, "Mad Madeleine" Kane of Mad Kane's Political Madness takes a hard, gut-wrenching look at what may well be the most important political story of our time: America's new First Puppy. Learn about the searing details (plus limerick) in "Dogged Journalism".
And that concludes Carnival of the Liberals #89. If you've enjoyed reading these posts half as much as I've enjoyed presenting them, then I've enjoyed them twice as much as you. And hey, as long as you're here, why not look around the Johnny Pez blog and see what there is to see? In addition to my own insightful political commentary, there's my daring vision of an alternate world with no Hitler, my conservative version of Superman, a couple of really old public domain science fiction stories that you'll find nowhere else on the internet, and the usual odds and ends you'll find on any blog.
And if you're saying to yourself, "Why, I could do a better job of running a blog carnival than that doofus," then I encourage you to try. In fact, I dare you! I double-dog dare you! Go ahead and tell Leo Lincourt that you want to host the Carnival of the Liberals, just to show that Johnny Pez joker how it's done! In fact, there's an open spot coming up on May 20. Go ahead and volunteer for that one, just to rub my nose in it! That'll show me!
The next edition of Carnival of the Liberals will be hosted at the Quiche Moraine blog on May 6, 2009. Hope to see you there!
Monday, April 20, 2009
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!
The Johnny Pez blog has passed yet another milestone on the road to Absolute Blogospheric Supremacy: the Rumproast blog, winner of the 2008 Weblog Award for best small blog, now has us blogrolled under the Polisnark category alongside such illustrious blogs as Jesus' General, Jon Swift, and Sadly, No! Kudos to our newly-acquired minion Kevin K. I'd just like to assure Kevin that when I finally achieve Total World Dominance his death will be merciful and swift.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Harl Vincent bibliography, 1938 - 1969
As part of my effort to single-handedly revive interest in pioneering science fiction writer Harl Vincent, I'll be posting a bibliography of all of Vincent's published works, as culled from the Internet Speculative Fiction Database and other online sources. Today I'll be listing his works from 1938 to 1969 based on order of original publication. List of works from 1928 to 1930 can be found here, 1931 to 1932 here, and 1933 to 1935 here.
1938
"Return of the Prowler" (sequel to "Prowler of the Wastelands")
Astounding Science-Fiction, November 1938
"Prince Deru Returns"
Amazing Stories, December 1938
1939
"Newscast"
Marvel Science Stories, April-May 1939
"The Devil Flower"
Fantastic Adventures, May 1939
"The Morons"
Astounding Science-Fiction, June 1939
"Mystery of the Collapsing Skyscrapers"
Amazing Stories, August 1939
"Lightning Strikes Once"
Marvel Science Stories, August 1939
"Power Plant"
Astounding Science-Fiction, November 1939
1940
"Neutral Vessel"
Astounding Science-Fiction, January 1940
Johnny Pez blog, August 14 - 18, 2009
"High-Frequency War"
Astounding Science-Fiction, February 1940
Johnny Pez blog, March 11 - 13, 2009
"Undersea Prisoner"
Amazing Stories, February 1940
Science Fiction Adventure Classics, Spring 1971
"Gravity Island"
Super Science Stories, March 1940
"Master Control"
Astonishing Stories, April 1940
Johnny Pez Blog, January 9 - 13, 2010
"Deputy Correspondent"
Astounding Science-Fiction, June 1940
"Life Inside a Wall"
Science Fiction Quarterly, Summer 1940
Yankee Science Fiction, June 1941
The Moon Conquerers; Swan, 1943
"Trouble Shooter"
Super Science Stories, July 1940
"Other World"
Astonishing Stories, October 1940
1941
"Grave of the Achilles"
Captain Future, Winter 1941
"Lunar Station"
Comet Stories, January 1941
"Crime by Chart"
Exciting Detective, March 1941
Fiction Quarterly (Canada), Spring 1942
1942
"Voice From the Void"
Amazing Stories, June 1942
Science Fiction Adventure Classics, May 1972
1966
The Doomsday Planet, Tower Books, 1966
1967
"Invader"
If, September 1967
1969
"The Lethal Planetoid"
Spaceway, January 1969
"Space Storm"
Famous Science Fiction, Spring 1969
1938
"Return of the Prowler" (sequel to "Prowler of the Wastelands")
Astounding Science-Fiction, November 1938
"Prince Deru Returns"
Amazing Stories, December 1938
1939
"Newscast"
Marvel Science Stories, April-May 1939
"The Devil Flower"
Fantastic Adventures, May 1939
"The Morons"
Astounding Science-Fiction, June 1939
"Mystery of the Collapsing Skyscrapers"
Amazing Stories, August 1939
"Lightning Strikes Once"
Marvel Science Stories, August 1939
"Power Plant"
Astounding Science-Fiction, November 1939
1940
"Neutral Vessel"
Astounding Science-Fiction, January 1940
Johnny Pez blog, August 14 - 18, 2009
"High-Frequency War"
Astounding Science-Fiction, February 1940
Johnny Pez blog, March 11 - 13, 2009
"Undersea Prisoner"
Amazing Stories, February 1940
Science Fiction Adventure Classics, Spring 1971
"Gravity Island"
Super Science Stories, March 1940
"Master Control"
Astonishing Stories, April 1940
Johnny Pez Blog, January 9 - 13, 2010
"Deputy Correspondent"
Astounding Science-Fiction, June 1940
"Life Inside a Wall"
Science Fiction Quarterly, Summer 1940
Yankee Science Fiction, June 1941
The Moon Conquerers; Swan, 1943
"Trouble Shooter"
Super Science Stories, July 1940
"Other World"
Astonishing Stories, October 1940
1941
"Grave of the Achilles"
Captain Future, Winter 1941
"Lunar Station"
Comet Stories, January 1941
"Crime by Chart"
Exciting Detective, March 1941
Fiction Quarterly (Canada), Spring 1942
1942
"Voice From the Void"
Amazing Stories, June 1942
Science Fiction Adventure Classics, May 1972
1966
The Doomsday Planet, Tower Books, 1966
1967
"Invader"
If, September 1967
1969
"The Lethal Planetoid"
Spaceway, January 1969
"Space Storm"
Famous Science Fiction, Spring 1969
Friday, April 17, 2009
Mess with Texas
One of the funniest soundbites to come out of National Teabagging Day was Texas Governor Rick Perry threatening secession if the federal government "continues to thumb their nose at the American people" ie continues to collect taxes. Now, you and I may think that Governor Goodhair is just playing to his party's ever-smaller-and-more-extreme base, but the thing to bear in mind here is that Texas actually has a history of seceding from countries it doesn't want to belong to. Texans seceded from Mexico in 1835 because they were afraid the Mexican government would free their slaves, then seceded from the United States in 1861 because they were afraid that the American government would free their slaves. (As a direct result of the 1861 secession, in 1865 the American government freed their slaves.)
Supposing Texas did secede in the near future? How would that work out?
In the first place, some areas of Texas would resist secession, just as areas of Virginia, North Carolina and Tennessee did in the 1860s. In particular, the state capitol of Austin, a hotbed of liberalism and the home of the SXSW music festival, would likely see a West Virginia-style countersecession, with Austin being admitted into the Union as a separate state and acting as an oasis of democratic values and culture, much as West Berlin was during the Cold War. Heavily hispanic areas of Texas near the Mexican border would be the site of an ongoing insurgency funded by Mexican sympathizers. Expect the Texan government to use chemical weapons to put down antigovernment uprisings, leading to the adoption of UN resolutions condeming the practice.
Internationally, there would be almost no international recognition of Texan independence, which would, ironically, be recognized by a handful of rogue states such as North Korea and Cuba. The Texan government, being dominated by black helicopter-type crazy wingnuts, would of course refuse to apply for membership in the UN.
Economically, Texas is dominated by two industries: oil and military bases. The withdrawal of the American military after secession would cripple the Texan economy, resulting in skyrocketing unemployment and a deflationary spiral that would result in the hoarding of Texas currency (officially the Tex, unofficially the Ronnie for the picture of Ronald Reagan on the One Tex note) forcing most Texans to resort to barter.
As the humanitarian crisis in Texas deepens, there will be increasing calls for President Obama to use military force to intervene. Fortunately, it is now a recognized principle of American foreign policy that military intervention is necessary if a foreign country with large oil reserves is suspected of harboring nuclear ambitions. All that is necessary is for the American government to cite evidence of Texan agents seeking uranium yellowcake in Africa and the case for war is pretty much a done deal.
Once the decision to invade and occupy Texas is made, expect to see much government propaganda emphasizing the tyrannical nature of the Texan government and the suffering of minority groups. The actual invasion will likely be carried out by a combination of American troops and Israeli mercenaries relying on a strategy of bribing the commanders of key Texas Ranger battalions to not fight.
Once the Texan government falls, expect the occupation and reconstruction of Texas to go far more smoothly than that of Iraq, since the Obama administration will be run by competent pragmatists rather than incompetent conservative zealots. Using the postwar Allied occupation of Germany as a model, it shouldn't take more than four years to rebuild civil society in Texas to the point where statewide elections can be held and the state can be readmitted to the Union, though there will no doubt be some voices advocating for the division of Texas into two or more states to make future attempts at secession less likely. If these voices prevail, we may see a United States with as many as 56 states with such interesting names as West Louisiana and Baja Oklahoma.
Supposing Texas did secede in the near future? How would that work out?
In the first place, some areas of Texas would resist secession, just as areas of Virginia, North Carolina and Tennessee did in the 1860s. In particular, the state capitol of Austin, a hotbed of liberalism and the home of the SXSW music festival, would likely see a West Virginia-style countersecession, with Austin being admitted into the Union as a separate state and acting as an oasis of democratic values and culture, much as West Berlin was during the Cold War. Heavily hispanic areas of Texas near the Mexican border would be the site of an ongoing insurgency funded by Mexican sympathizers. Expect the Texan government to use chemical weapons to put down antigovernment uprisings, leading to the adoption of UN resolutions condeming the practice.
Internationally, there would be almost no international recognition of Texan independence, which would, ironically, be recognized by a handful of rogue states such as North Korea and Cuba. The Texan government, being dominated by black helicopter-type crazy wingnuts, would of course refuse to apply for membership in the UN.
Economically, Texas is dominated by two industries: oil and military bases. The withdrawal of the American military after secession would cripple the Texan economy, resulting in skyrocketing unemployment and a deflationary spiral that would result in the hoarding of Texas currency (officially the Tex, unofficially the Ronnie for the picture of Ronald Reagan on the One Tex note) forcing most Texans to resort to barter.
As the humanitarian crisis in Texas deepens, there will be increasing calls for President Obama to use military force to intervene. Fortunately, it is now a recognized principle of American foreign policy that military intervention is necessary if a foreign country with large oil reserves is suspected of harboring nuclear ambitions. All that is necessary is for the American government to cite evidence of Texan agents seeking uranium yellowcake in Africa and the case for war is pretty much a done deal.
Once the decision to invade and occupy Texas is made, expect to see much government propaganda emphasizing the tyrannical nature of the Texan government and the suffering of minority groups. The actual invasion will likely be carried out by a combination of American troops and Israeli mercenaries relying on a strategy of bribing the commanders of key Texas Ranger battalions to not fight.
Once the Texan government falls, expect the occupation and reconstruction of Texas to go far more smoothly than that of Iraq, since the Obama administration will be run by competent pragmatists rather than incompetent conservative zealots. Using the postwar Allied occupation of Germany as a model, it shouldn't take more than four years to rebuild civil society in Texas to the point where statewide elections can be held and the state can be readmitted to the Union, though there will no doubt be some voices advocating for the division of Texas into two or more states to make future attempts at secession less likely. If these voices prevail, we may see a United States with as many as 56 states with such interesting names as West Louisiana and Baja Oklahoma.
Harl Vincent bibliography, 1933 - 1935
As part of my effort to single-handedly revive interest in pioneering science fiction writer Harl Vincent, I'll be posting a bibliography of all of Vincent's published works, as culled from the Internet Speculative Fiction Database and other online sources. Today I'll be listing his works from 1933 to 1935 based on order of original publication. List of works from 1928 to 1930 can be found here, and 1931 to 1932 here.
1933
"Wanderer of Infinity"
Astounding Stories, March 1933
The Pulps: Fifty Years of American Pop Culture, ed. Tony Goodstone; Chelsea House, 1976
Project Gutenberg, July 14, 2009
"When the Comet Returned" (sequel to "Water-Bound World")
Amazing Stories, April 1933
"Cavern of Thunders"
Amazing Stories, July 1933
"Whisper of Death"
Amazing Stories, November 1933
"Telegraph Plateau"
Astounding Stories, November 1933
1934
"Master of Dreams"
Amazing Stories, January 1934
"Lost City of Mars" (sequel to "Water-Bound World" and "When the Comet Returned")
Astounding Stories, February 1934
"Cat's Eye"
Amazing Stories, April 1934
"Rex"
Astounding Stories, June 1934
The Coming of the Robots, ed. Sam Moskowitz; Collier Books, 1963
Machines that Think, ed. Isaac Asimov, Patricia S. Warrick, and Martin H. Greenberg; Holt, Rinehart and Winston, January 1984
"Synthetic"
Marvel Tales, July/August 1934
"The Barrier"
Amazing Stories, September 1934
Johnny Pez blog, August 2009
"Cosmic Rhythm"
Astounding Stories, October 1934
1935
"Energy"
Astounding Stories, January 1935
"Valley of the Rukh"
Amazing Stories, February 1935
"Prowler of the Wastelands"
Astounding Stories, April 1935
Strange Signposts, ed. Roger Elwood and Sam Moskowitz; Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1966
"The Plane Compass"
Astounding Stories, June 1935
"Parasite"
Amazing Stories, July 1935
"The Challenge From Beyond" with Stanley G. Weinbaum, Donald Wandrei, E. E. Smith, and Murray Leinster
Fantasy Magazine, September 1935
The Challenge From Beyond, Necronomicon Press, 1990
1933
"Wanderer of Infinity"
Astounding Stories, March 1933
The Pulps: Fifty Years of American Pop Culture, ed. Tony Goodstone; Chelsea House, 1976
Project Gutenberg, July 14, 2009
"When the Comet Returned" (sequel to "Water-Bound World")
Amazing Stories, April 1933
"Cavern of Thunders"
Amazing Stories, July 1933
"Whisper of Death"
Amazing Stories, November 1933
"Telegraph Plateau"
Astounding Stories, November 1933
1934
"Master of Dreams"
Amazing Stories, January 1934
"Lost City of Mars" (sequel to "Water-Bound World" and "When the Comet Returned")
Astounding Stories, February 1934
"Cat's Eye"
Amazing Stories, April 1934
"Rex"
Astounding Stories, June 1934
The Coming of the Robots, ed. Sam Moskowitz; Collier Books, 1963
Machines that Think, ed. Isaac Asimov, Patricia S. Warrick, and Martin H. Greenberg; Holt, Rinehart and Winston, January 1984
"Synthetic"
Marvel Tales, July/August 1934
"The Barrier"
Amazing Stories, September 1934
Johnny Pez blog, August 2009
"Cosmic Rhythm"
Astounding Stories, October 1934
1935
"Energy"
Astounding Stories, January 1935
"Valley of the Rukh"
Amazing Stories, February 1935
"Prowler of the Wastelands"
Astounding Stories, April 1935
Strange Signposts, ed. Roger Elwood and Sam Moskowitz; Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1966
"The Plane Compass"
Astounding Stories, June 1935
"Parasite"
Amazing Stories, July 1935
"The Challenge From Beyond" with Stanley G. Weinbaum, Donald Wandrei, E. E. Smith, and Murray Leinster
Fantasy Magazine, September 1935
The Challenge From Beyond, Necronomicon Press, 1990
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