Sarah A. Hoyt's Blog, page 177

I’m Going To Bed

Remember, as Heinlein exhorted, to keep your clothes and weapons where you can find them in the dark.

And those of you who are believers, PRAY like there’s no tomorrow. Because there might not be.

And now, maybe Benadryl will make me sleep (but I doubt it.)

Those of you in obviously dangerous zones get the f*ck out and go bunk with a friend for the foreseeable. I mean it. You have no idea how crazy this is going to get. I have some.

Vote as if your life depended on it!

You’ve heard the phrase: make hay while the sun shines?

VOTE. Get out there and vote. Vote as if you life depended on it. If you are a regular on this blog, it probably does.

Vote if you’re in a deep red area and think your vote doesn’t count. Vote if you’re in a deep blue area and you think your vote doesn’t count. Vote if they call the election before you get out there. Vote. GET OUT THERE AND VOTE.

Yes the third box is woobly and leaky and the dereliction of duty of our journali...

Burn Brightly

It is the day before what might very well be the most important — and disastrous — election in the country’s history. And it if goes that way, the last one too.

Before I woke up I ran through my head the things I should say and cover.

But I’ve been sitting in front of the computer for an hour, staring at the screen, because, what is there to say?

I can tell the people holding back and deciding not to vote or to vote for Biden because Trump is “Uncouth” and “mean tweets” and “not pr...

Eggs

It was Halloween night and there was a horse at my door. Or at least a horse’s head. And he was carrying a basket of candy. And he stood six feet tall, wore a wine colored sweater, artistically ripped jeans and expensive tennis shoes.

I sighed and started to close the door, and the horse said, “No, Eileen, listen.” He lifted the basket, “I brought candy for Tori and Talon.”

I sighed again. I hadn’t seen Paul in six months. The lawyers had almost made everything neat and ready for sig...

I’m Sorry

I was going to do a slightly Halloween-like story, but that and/or the chapter won’t happen, mostly because I slept really really badly and think I need at least a day off today.

I’ll try to do the chapter tomorrow, as well as the promo.

Mirror

So, maybe it was just a dream. I know that it can’t be real, right?

I think it started because everything was going wrong in life.

Lately the mirror had become an enemy. I looked into it and didn’t recognize the reflection: it was a person of faded hair, and loose skin. There were wrinkles on her forehead, and her eyes had lost the shine that had got me those contracts selling mascara.

I’d stopped putting makeup on, not only because it seemed to look funny — like a painted skull — ...

Seriously guys!

When I said show up for the group photo, who thought that meant “non-humans only”?

And who the heck is the floating eyeball?

The only people I recognize are Paul Howard, Orvan and Bobtheregistered.

I guess the rest of you were too busy for the Hun family photo? How are we going to send a getwell cat to HerbN like this?
(And yes, this is me being silly and trying to cheer myself up.)

UPDATE: Foxfier sent this as her pictoral excuse for not being in for the group photo. I don’t be...

Go be Americans

It is becoming clear the left is going to steal this election. Either through fraud (so much fraud), or through their time-honored methods of obfuscating and lying to the population.

Just like Nixon became the greatest crook ever and they preened for years over having brought down this would-be Hitler, they will now for decades shape the narrative to be that President Trump mishandled the virus, and destroyed the economy and therefore deserved to be brought down. And that their savior an...

Rumpled

She was crying in the copier room when I came in, and she looked up at me with moist blue eyes, like pansies under the rain.

I couldn’t remember her name. Too D*mn Young isn’t a name. Even my name is not that weird. Crying like that, she looked about sixteen. No makeup. Blond hair down to the middle of her back. Very pretty. Maybe one of our high school interns?

And then she grabbed a tissue from box on the shelf, wiped her eyes, blinked at me and said, “Oh, Mr. Rumple, I’m so sorry....

Speak!

On the first weekend of this month, at the meeting with my fans at Pete’s Kitchen on Colfax, a young and enthusiastic fan/friend/adopted nephew got to talking about politics.

He is not a leftist, and he was speaking very loudly.

Pete’s is not exactly downtown, but it’s on the periphery, and area solidly liberal. It is also frequented mostly by people who have been taught they’re down and out because of those evil non-leftists. I never inquired, though we’ve been going there for de...