Nick Mamatas's Blog, page 4
April 7, 2017
Honestly, I've never read a ToS before and I am not going to start now...
I don't blog much anymore. (Twitter's where the fun stuff is: @Nmamatas.) When I do need to blog, or share a link to publications, I probably will use this space anyway. Come and get me, Putin!
March 27, 2017
Florida
I spent the last week in Florida, and it was all right. In Tampa, I visited with my uncle, who watches MSNBC on his TV while double-checking with CNN on his phone, and my poor grandmother who in her dementia knows enough to talk about how she needs to die very soon. On the plus side, I did eat at the very nice Ulele restaurant and have a drink in the very beautiful if inexplicably empty and surely haunted Floridian Palace.
And then it was on to Orlando and ICFA, where I did a reading despite there not being any copies of I Am Providence in the dealer's room. (I recommended entering the dealer's room, whipping out one's phone, and buying it online right under the dealer's nose.)
Then I got seriously sick. Walking flu. I did manage to show off some taiji to a couple of ICFAites with an interest in it, but otherwise spent most of the time in my room. A lot of other people reported migraines and upset stomachs and whatnot. It was bad enough that I just Googled Legionnaires' disease, and used my braincase avatar on this post. (What I have doesn't sound as awful as LD though.)
I felt bad enough that at the Orlando airport I read the wrong boarding pass and ended up on the wrong side of the airport, necessitating two trips through security...which worked out as that is how I discovered my plane was going to be delayed for an hour or more. I floated the idea of just leaving tomorrow, but Virgin America said it would be best to at least get to LA, even if stuck at LAX. (Easy for them to say; they don't work in America's worst big-city airport!) At the gate I was told that the LAX-SFO plane was also delayed due to fog, so everything would work out...except for the thirty-minute layover becoming a three-hour one. Then on the plane, I checked various flight tracker websites, all of which said that the LAX-SFO would be leaving on time, stranding me and my flu symptoms in LAX till 7am at least. I sent out some complaining tweets and looked for a hotel room, but thankfully just as we were about to land was told by the in-flight crew that the plane to SFO was being held for us. Very nerve-wracking.
While in Florida I started reading an exciting Florida book, The Night Ocean, by Paul La Farge, which is about Lovecraft and his young Floridian friend R. H. Barlow. Is it weird that I am getting into Floridiana, or are the rents just too damn high in the California Bay Area? At any rate, I just put in an order for the collected Lovecraft-Barlow letters.
Speaking of Lovecraft and high rents, there are just three days left on the Lovecraftian Literature StoryBundle—we've sold 925 copies and would love to hit 1000. Award-winning anthologies, actual attempts at theology, two of my books, and much more, for a mere fifteen dollars.
So check it out!
And then it was on to Orlando and ICFA, where I did a reading despite there not being any copies of I Am Providence in the dealer's room. (I recommended entering the dealer's room, whipping out one's phone, and buying it online right under the dealer's nose.)
Then I got seriously sick. Walking flu. I did manage to show off some taiji to a couple of ICFAites with an interest in it, but otherwise spent most of the time in my room. A lot of other people reported migraines and upset stomachs and whatnot. It was bad enough that I just Googled Legionnaires' disease, and used my braincase avatar on this post. (What I have doesn't sound as awful as LD though.)
I felt bad enough that at the Orlando airport I read the wrong boarding pass and ended up on the wrong side of the airport, necessitating two trips through security...which worked out as that is how I discovered my plane was going to be delayed for an hour or more. I floated the idea of just leaving tomorrow, but Virgin America said it would be best to at least get to LA, even if stuck at LAX. (Easy for them to say; they don't work in America's worst big-city airport!) At the gate I was told that the LAX-SFO plane was also delayed due to fog, so everything would work out...except for the thirty-minute layover becoming a three-hour one. Then on the plane, I checked various flight tracker websites, all of which said that the LAX-SFO would be leaving on time, stranding me and my flu symptoms in LAX till 7am at least. I sent out some complaining tweets and looked for a hotel room, but thankfully just as we were about to land was told by the in-flight crew that the plane to SFO was being held for us. Very nerve-wracking.
While in Florida I started reading an exciting Florida book, The Night Ocean, by Paul La Farge, which is about Lovecraft and his young Floridian friend R. H. Barlow. Is it weird that I am getting into Floridiana, or are the rents just too damn high in the California Bay Area? At any rate, I just put in an order for the collected Lovecraft-Barlow letters.
Speaking of Lovecraft and high rents, there are just three days left on the Lovecraftian Literature StoryBundle—we've sold 925 copies and would love to hit 1000. Award-winning anthologies, actual attempts at theology, two of my books, and much more, for a mere fifteen dollars.
So check it out!
March 18, 2017
March 17, 2017
The True Meaning of Saint Patrick's Day
Remember that Saint Patrick was not Irish; he was Anglo-Roman, who brought enlightenment to the island and defeated the pagan darkness at great risk to himself. He also chose the shamrock as a way to represent the Holy Trinity to the unlettered. This is why he is venerated among the Orthodox as well as the Romans.
And then, after you venerate him, start drinking. By six pm, I want you all looking like this:
And then, after you venerate him, start drinking. By six pm, I want you all looking like this:
March 7, 2017
The Lovecraftian Literature StoryBundle is live!
Like ebooks? Like Lovecraft? Check out the Lovecraftian Literature Story Bundle, featuring anthologies and novels by Cody Goodfellow, Silvia Moreno-Garcia, Scott R. Jones, li'l ol' me, and many more. Five bucks gets you six ebooks; fifteen bucks gets you twelve.
Check it out!
Check it out!
The Graps
Did you know that Legacy.com commissions original feature essays? I didn't either, till last week, when they commissioned me to discuss the deaths of George "The Animal" Steele, Ivan Koloff, and Chavo Guerrero Sr.
Rest In Peace, Wrestlers.
Rest In Peace, Wrestlers.
March 5, 2017
Attention Illiterates!
I Am Providence is now a two-narrator audiobook on Audible.com. So if you like books but dislike reading, get to clicking.
February 20, 2017
Another Thing to Celebrate!
Statement: After careful consideration @simonschuster and its @threshold_books have cancelled publication of Dangerous by Milo Yiannopoulos
— (((Adam Rothberg))) (@AdamRothberg) February 20, 2017
Everybody sing!
Forty-Five
Well, today I am forty-five. Clearly I should have thought of a better name for my blog back when I was twenty-nine.
As it is my birthday, let me encourage you, as I do annually, to buy yourself a a present.
As it is my birthday, let me encourage you, as I do annually, to buy yourself a a present.
February 17, 2017
George "The Animal" Steele
I first saw professional wrestling thanks to a religious obligation—Good Friday's midnight liturgy. To stay up for the trip to church, my sister and I had the TV on and clicked around the channels till we found wrestling, and watched it. This was before Hulkamania, before wrestling was a morning show in the New York market. It was pretty compelling, even though the TV mostly showed "squash" matches and snippets of upper-card ones.
I remember pumping an uncle and cousin for more information about wrestling, and one character they mentioned was George "The Animal" Steele, whom they described as a caveman with a green tongue. My mental image did not match what I eventually saw at all (I pictured a loincloth, and a lot of hair), but he was still shocking!
George could wrestle. He could speak. He just didn't need to, not in the 1980s. Even in those days of kayfabe the playground rumor was that he was a college professor who did this for extra money. The rumor was almost true—he was a teacher and a coach at a Detroit high school when he first started working as a wrestler to augment his income. By the time he came to New York and the WWWF, the biggest market, he didn't need to teach anymore.
Eventually, during the more cartoony era of WWF wrestling, Steele was turned face, given a bit of a beauty and the beast gimmick (he was infatuated with Miss Elizabeth) and put into a feud with Randy Savage, which is great work if you could get it. His in-ring gimmick didn't change though, even as a good guy:
Steele was already a throwback, in more ways than one. The 1980s were all about tans and steroids. He was a different type of cartoon, and as such he could really only be a novelty act, and a link back to the weirder era from which he came. And speaking of weirder eras, he also had a pretty major role in the film Ed Wood, doing a spot-on Tor Johnson impression.
The plus side of Steele's gimmick is that he could work into his old age—he didn't have to take a lot of bumps, or exhaust himself with a lot of mat-based or high-flying wrestling. His charisma, reputation, and freakish looks carried him through:
It's not a bad job if you can get it. George Steele was a legend build on a furry belly and Clorets, which made his tongue green for the ring. If only there was room in wrestling today for more like him.
George "The Animal" Steele, died this morning at age 79.
I remember pumping an uncle and cousin for more information about wrestling, and one character they mentioned was George "The Animal" Steele, whom they described as a caveman with a green tongue. My mental image did not match what I eventually saw at all (I pictured a loincloth, and a lot of hair), but he was still shocking!
George could wrestle. He could speak. He just didn't need to, not in the 1980s. Even in those days of kayfabe the playground rumor was that he was a college professor who did this for extra money. The rumor was almost true—he was a teacher and a coach at a Detroit high school when he first started working as a wrestler to augment his income. By the time he came to New York and the WWWF, the biggest market, he didn't need to teach anymore.
Eventually, during the more cartoony era of WWF wrestling, Steele was turned face, given a bit of a beauty and the beast gimmick (he was infatuated with Miss Elizabeth) and put into a feud with Randy Savage, which is great work if you could get it. His in-ring gimmick didn't change though, even as a good guy:
Steele was already a throwback, in more ways than one. The 1980s were all about tans and steroids. He was a different type of cartoon, and as such he could really only be a novelty act, and a link back to the weirder era from which he came. And speaking of weirder eras, he also had a pretty major role in the film Ed Wood, doing a spot-on Tor Johnson impression.
The plus side of Steele's gimmick is that he could work into his old age—he didn't have to take a lot of bumps, or exhaust himself with a lot of mat-based or high-flying wrestling. His charisma, reputation, and freakish looks carried him through:
It's not a bad job if you can get it. George Steele was a legend build on a furry belly and Clorets, which made his tongue green for the ring. If only there was room in wrestling today for more like him.
George "The Animal" Steele, died this morning at age 79.
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