Sarah A. Hoyt's Blog, page 105

Aim Small, Miss Small

This could frankly be titled “From the dumpster fire’s heart I stab at you.”

We are in a strange place and no mistake. I mean, it’s been said for a long time that we’re in that awkward space when it’s too late to vote them out, but too early to start shooting.

It used to be amusing. Not laughing right now.

Added to that no sane person wants to start shooting, because we know if it ever starts it will make the French Terror look like a teddy bear picnic. And that the left isn’t sane...

Our Trump Card

Before we start this here session, let me point out I decided to vote for Trump in 2016 the night before election day. I did it after earnest talks by both Jerry Pournelle and L. Neil Smith and partly because those two agreeing was such a jaw-dropping shock, I couldn’t fight it too well. (Tips hat to two friends now in the eternal SF convention hall.)

But still the only reason I chose Trump in that election is because he was judged less likely to have me shot in the back of the head. (No...

Quick to the Typewriter

Hey remember that time when the USSR policed typewriters so you couldn’t produce Samizdat fast enough?

Copiers and fax machines? Forget about it. That was the break through tech they couldn’t control anymore, and as people started sharing impressions, news and ideas — at the same time that Ronald Reagan of Blessed Memory was putting the economic screws on them by refusing to shut down our defense industry — the USSR’s empire of lies (probably more lies than anything true, ever) melted awa...

Consent and Perception

I’ve reached the stage of life where memory of certain past events is fluid and uncertain. By past events I mean things that happened before I got married.

This is startling, because until very recently I could name all 34 or so of my form classmates in eighth grade, and it came as a great shock to realize I no longer could even remember most of their faces. Of the dross of the past I remember maybe 10, who distinguished themselves in some way, good or bad. Virginia — a very unusual name...

Book Promo And Vignettes by Luke, Mary Catelli and ‘Nother Mike

*We interrupt this promo post for some amazing news. Just as I was about to give up and had already decided I would go to the doctor to see why the cough wasn’t stopping after a week, it stopped. I mean, there’s still a little insignificant dry cough, but I …. slept. This being so, and my being so tired last night that I was maybe minutes away from the sort of hallucination that starts a world-religion, I slept for a little over twelve hours, and have been taking care of the “must do” that went ...

Home Star

 *It is now complete. It ended up being somewhat shorter, but that’s probably not a detriment. And if you want to blame anyone for this, blame my husband who has been mainlining Christmas movies in the evening. Well, that and the fact I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in over three weeks. – SAH*

It doesn’t snow in space. There are no chimneys in a scout ship lost in unknown coordinates. And John was fresh out of socks, and he was all out of the energy to wash one and hang it on the non-e...

I’m writing something for you guys

It’s weird, and it will have tons of mistakes, since it insists it’s science fiction and I don’t have time to track things, but well, it will be done in a couple of hours.

Just wanted you to know I’m okay and I haven’t run off to parts unknown.

Infinite Minds In Finite Bodies

Humans are a tragic race. By which I mean our lives are deeply significant and almost all end in or suffer a major unhappy event.

Jordan Peterson said not to be jealous of anyone, because in the end everyone suffers. Something like that. I’d never thought about it, but lately it’s much on my mind, particularly as my friends and relatives age. There is always,even in the most blessed of old ages, significant loss of self-ownership, of pride, of ability. And then there are those who die yo...

Bad Feminist World Building

When I was young I called myself a feminist. Remember the culture I was born into, though it changed when I was in my teens — in law, but the underlying culture remains of course — did make women second class citizens. A woman needed permission from father or husband to work outside the home, for instance. Women didn’t have the vote. And women were assume to be dumber than men, a myth I enjoyed exploding. And, and, and–

So I called myself a feminist because I wanted women to have the sam...

House Repair Triage a guest post by Heroditus Huxley

House Repair Triage a guest post by Heroditus Huxley

We are in, no lie, a full-on economic meltdown.  Times are hard for everybody. 

Here’s a hint: they’re always hard for some.  My household is single income.  I budget hard, and carefully, to get the stuff done that needs to be done. 

And sometimes, stuff has to wait. 

So.  You’ve taken the plunge and become a homeowner.  You smile, and you look at your house.  Your house.  You’re in love with it.  And you move in.

And th...