Jamie Todd Rubin's Blog, page 356
February 8, 2011
Loss leaders
I noted yesterday that the McDonald's in the Pentagon City mall had raised the price of their Sausage McMuffin with Egg meal to $5.09, which was about $1.30 more expensive than it had been on Friday. This morning, when stopping for my morning Coca Cola, I gave a closer look at the menu and discovered something utterly shameful:
A Sausage McMuffin sandwich costs $2.89. The meal costs $5.09
An Egg McMuffin sandwich costs $2.89. The meal costs $3.79
McDonald's is charing me more for hash browns and a soft drink if I buy a Sausage McMuffin than if I buy an Egg McMuffin. A friend at work called this a loss-leader: they want people to buy Egg McMuffins. I think it is patently ridiculous, but I didn't have the energy to argue with the managers.
I realize that a lot of people hate McDonald's and consider the food there to be awful, but I like their breakfasts, particularly the Sausage McMuffins. But not enough to pay $5.09 for them. Not because the McMuffin isn't worth it to me, since obviously, the price hasn't changed on the sandwich, but since I will not, out of principle, pay more for a soft drink and hash browns just because I chose a different sandwich. There's just something wrong about that.
For lack of creativity
Hot off my rant on movie reboots (just a voice in the wilderness, I suppose), I learned yesterday (from a Jason Alexander tweet) that the 1966 movie, Fantastic Voyage is going to be remade, and James Cameron is involved. Is this not a perfect example of what I was talking about? Here is yet another third generation remake. In this case, a script was produced, for which Isaac Asimov was asked to do a novelization. He did so and worked so quickly that his book came out six months before the movie (creating the impression that the movie was based on the book). And now, 45 years later, Cameron wants to remake it.
Once again this is going to be all about demonstrating special effects, whatever creativity is involved in the picture will be in the technical aspects. I really can't understand why screenwriters and directors can't come up with original stuff, why they have to remake remakes. If it was a timeless classic it's a little more understandable, but Fantastic Voyage? The book wasn't Asimov's best, but it wasn't so bad. The best thing about the movie was Raquel Welch.
Maybe I'm not looking at this the right way, but I find this lack of creativity enormously depressing. It's why I generally stick with written science fiction, which is among the most creative literatures extant, and run away from sci-fi flicks, which are, with rare exceptions, as about original as a paperclip in a paperclip factory.
February 7, 2011
Writing update for 2/7/2011
As promised, I tried out my new schedule tonight. I started writing a little early, at 7pm and wrote for about a solid hour and a half, completing the third scene of "Rescue" and adding about 1,500 words to the story. It now stands at around 4,500, out of an estimated 15,000 or so. The plot took an interesting turn in this scene. I needed a reason for a team of explorers to be out exploring a distant planet and a friend provided a suggestion that got my mind going. I decided to take an idea that I'd been saving for another story and join it with this one, and it fit in very nicely with the plot.
This scene is now substantially changed from what it was in it's novel form with the roles of the two characters in the scene almost reversed. It is still first draft quality, but I'm setting up the proper breadcrumbs, and in particular, establishing a good story arc.
Just before I started writing this evening, I felt a bit worn out, but with the toddler down to sleep and Kelly heading off to bed, I sat down at my desk with my noise-canceling headset canceling out the remaining noise and really got into focusing on the details of the scene. It felt pretty good. And now, of course, I can sleep in and not feel guilty about it, so long as I manage to get to the keyboard again tomorrow night. And I don't foresee a problem there. The writing I did tonight has pulled me back into this story and I'm jazzed about it and eager to write scene 4.
If at first you don't succeed, alter your schedule
I can be stubborn about some things, but there comes a point when even I can see that something isn't work. Last week I wrote about my schedule. My favorite time to write is early in the morning because there is an early win in the day. I've achieved something before 7am. This is all well and good if one can manage to stick to a schedule, something which I used to have no problem doing, but something about which, now, I can't seem to handle. Every night I tell myself that I'm getting up at 5am to write. I put my head down on the pillow thinking about scenes in the upcoming story. And every morning, without fail, I sleep in.
It's time to change the schedule. At this point, it's more important to get the writing done than it is to do it in the morning, so I'm going to try shifting things around a bit. I'll sleep in (as I have been) and instead so my writing in the evening, between 8-10pm. If I am sleeping in, I can stay up later. Regardless of how late I stay up, there is a point at which I must get up in the morning to get into the day job. I figure I'll try my hand at writing beginning around 8pm and see how things go. Instead of laying in bed thinking about what I'd be writing the next morning, I'll just stay up and write it. It still leaves the hour beforehand open for writing blog posts for the next day and so I can settle down at 8 knowing that everything else is done for the day. And I can go to bed that night with a win.
Starting tonight.
February 6, 2011
Vacation in the Golden Age, Episode 3: September 1939
The Golden Age of science fiction lasted nearly 11 years. That's roughly 130 issues of Astounding. And while many of those issue are classics, there have to be at least a few that are, if not flops, certainly below par. I think that the September 1939 issue is one of those sub-par issues. My favorite parts of the issues was the science article and the letters column. Most of the stories in this issue were mediocre, although a few rose above the rest. But this is just the beginning of the Golden Age. The writers who will become giants in the field have yet to mature and reach their potential, and despite the fact that there are mediocre issues here and there, it is still a lot of fun to follow along, watch those authors evolve and blossom, and watch the Golden Age come into full bloom.
The September 1939 issue contains 2 novelettes, 3 short stories and a the conclusion of a 2-part serial. Two of those stories were fun, one wasn't too bad. It also contains a wonderful article on astronomy that in my opinion, was the highlight of the issue. Campbell's editorial, "Ending Year Six" is a brief description of the six years of Astounding under the management of Street & Smith. He writes briefly of some improvements, in particular improvements in the artwork appearing in the magazine. With respect to the authors appearing in Astounding, Campbell writes,
[A] story appearing over a hitherto unknown name is more apt than not to be one of the outstanding stories of the issue. H.L. Gold–John Berryman–A.E. van Vogt–and, I'm willing to predict, Don Evans, appearing for the fist time in the science fiction field in this issue.
Perhaps more than anything else, Campbell's biggest contribution to science fiction was his ability to take these new writers, in whom he saw some measure of potential, and mold them into masters of the genre.
Campbell also discusses Unknown, which was introduced in this year and which was proving to be as popular as Astounding, but for a slightly different flavor of story. In fact, there is a wonderful full-page ad for the famous H. L. Gold/L. Sprague de Camp collaboration, "None But Lucifer" in this issue:
Campbell concludes with a two paragraph-long plug for next month's first installment of E. E. "Doc" Smith's "Gray Lensman". The most interesting part of his plug was this particular statement, which will now seem remarkably dated:
Judging solely by past experience, science-fiction novels seldom appear in book form. Further, back copies containing Smith's stories disappear from the market quickly. We suggest that, if you miss "Gray Lensman" now, you'll miss it for a long time.
I found that amusing, especially since today, almost the reverse is true: science fiction novels almost never appear in serial form.
The first story in the issue, and the one for which the Rogers cover was produced is Manly Wade Wellman's "Forces Must Balance." This is the first piece that I ever read by Wellman and I knew nothing of the man when I started, but I learned a few things about him from my trusted sources along the way. Most interestingly, perhaps, is the fact that Wellman won Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine's short story contest in 1946, beating out the likes of Faulkner. How about that! "Forces Must Balance" is the inevitable story of a land rush in space, almost a space western, with various parties trying to reach a planet that will pass through the solar system and enter an orbit between Mars and Jupiter. That planet could upset the political balance and so who gets there first is crucial. Naturally, Wingate, the protagonist teams up with an outlaw to attempt to be the first to reach the planet.
The story is pretty good. I was entertained, but by no means blown away by it. In some places, the science was not very good, but in others, it was pretty savvy. For instance, there is talk of gravity assists (around the sun, and later, other planets) to pick up speed. I am a baseball fan an part IV of the story starts out with a clever baseball analogy:
An ancient player of baseball first pointed out that interstellar flight was a problem, not for a gunner, but for a batsman. A spaceship took off for a distant planet, but that planet was not stationary like a target; it moved swiftly like a ball from the hand of a macrocosmic pitcher…. Undoubtedly this pioneer comparison helped to bring baseball slang into the science of space navigation. Thus, "strike-out" meant a fatal miss of destination; "home run" a long trip from inner to outer planets; "yannigan," an apprentice or minor spaceman, and so on.
The politics in the story seems clearly influenced by the darkening events in Europe, particularly when there is discussion of how the heavens might be divided up–certainly something that must have been on Wellman's mind as the third decade of the twentieth century came to a close.
Next up was a piece by Victor Valding called "Atmospherics", my least favorite story in the issue. It was the story of a man who controlled the climate in a dome environment. I liked the opening because it was slightly meta, with our hero Hugh Vendrome reading what appears to be a pulp science fiction story called "A Tale of Two Suns." There were some hints in this story of a city that felt like what we would see later in Isaac Asimov's "Foundation" stories, especially in his descriptions of Trantor. Mostly, it is a story about allegiances, and once again, there is some clear influence from the deteriorating world situation. My favorite passage in the story, however, brought back one of those some-things-never-change moments. Hugh is racing for an elevator:
Hugh's thoughts were abruptly terminated. The two Earthmen had reached the passenger elevator leading into the sub-levels.
"Wait up!" he called, "I'm going down! Hey!"
But the door had closed. The old man swore softly.
Seventy years later, elevator etiquette (or lack thereof) hasn't changed. It seems like once a week, I'm racing for the elevator at work and someone refuses to hold it for me.
The third piece, "The Last Hope" by Don Evans (to whom Campbell referred in his editorial) is the longest piece. While it is listed as a novelette, I'm certain today we'd call it a novella. Evans can certainly write. The story is an interesting one and it kept me reading, but it dragged on in some places for too long and might have been better as a shorter piece. It is a post-apocalyptic story, one of the earliest that I've come across. The world has returned mostly to forests with the remains of a few scattered cities strewn about. Olaf, the story's protagonist appears to be the last young surviving male. He wanders into one of these cities, which is populated by very old men, scientists all of them, who are working on a kind of eugenics program to continue the human race. Olaf, being young and strong, is a perfect candidate for their experimentations and is captured via the use of a device which can read minds.
He soon becomes friends with one of his captors, Johnny, who doesn't agree with the experimentation and does what he can to help Olaf escape. Various complications set in, especially when a young woman is discovered, Iola. At this point, I think the story seems to flag a bit. Iola, while strong-willed, is not a very well written female character and that makes it more difficult to find her believable 70 years on. Ultimately, she needs to be rescued, despite being a free-spirit and I think it shows a reflection of how women were still perceived as late as 1939. Then, too, the story descends into the now familiar Adam and Eve, last two people on Earth tale. It is certainly not a bad first effort for science fiction, and I'm eager to find out what more Don Evans produced and if Campbell's predictions for him panned out.
The real highlight of this issue for me was R. S. Richardson's article, "The Other Side of Astronomy". Richardson was an astronomer at the Mt. Wilson Observatory, and his article is a wonderfully written series of anecdotes about life as an astronomer, both the good and the bad. He has very down-to-earth descriptions of what it is like to be an astronomer on a day-to-day basis, but what is most fascinating are his descriptions of life on these mountain-top observatories in the early 20th century. Regarding the Mt. Hamilton observatory:
It was hopeless to try to keep the houses warm int he winter; often they became so cold water froze on the dinner table. Many of the dwellings had defective flues, and when the wind blew from a certain direction, the flames shot several feet into the room, filling it with soot and smoke. This often made it necessary to eat in hallways and bedrooms… Opportunities to visit San Jose were rare and astronomers had to be their own barbers.
He also has some interesting things to say about women in the astronomy field at the time:
Astronomical investigations frequently involve long calculations of a rather routine nature which are usually turned over to women computers. Wives who can't keep their checking accounts straight would be appalled at the sight of mere girls taking logarithms, sines and cosines out of a trigonometric table as casually as one would look up a telephone number.
And on women as astronomers, he writes:
Rather curiously, astronomy attracts many women, the number of women graduate students sometimes exceeding the men. Although they do quite as well as the men, very few ever become professional astronomers. For after working eight years to get a Ph.D. degree, and acquiring an enormous amount of highly specialized knowledge, they almost invariably end up marrying one of the men students and become housewives.
The next story, a short piece called, "Masson's Secret" by Raymond Z. Gallun was my favorite of the bunch. Despite being rather pulpishly written, it was a good story about the first attempt to put a man on the moon. The beginning of the story opened quickly and dramatically in a way that would keep a slush-reader today moving onto the next page, and it certainly hooked me. The tale opens with friends of the astronaut who went the moon listening in as he returns to Earth, almost certain to crash since his rocket won't fire. We see this unfold through Dr. Charlie Masson's eyes. Masson is also friends with Syd, a lawyer and Zada. The three of them are all friends of Brand Fanshaw, the astronaut whose rocket is hurtling back to Earth. Zada, of course, is in love with Brand and Masson is secretly in love with Zada. The rocket crashes and Brand survives, barely, but his brain is severely damaged. Dr. Masson performs "micro surgery" to repair the brain and then mysteriously disappears while Brand recovers. I really don't want to give the ending away on this one, because I think it is an effective twist, even if some of the science in the story is dated.
Reading the story today is almost like reading an alternate history, for we know that the first on the moon was Neil Armstrong and not Brand Fanshaw. "Masson's Secret" puts the landing sometime in the 1970s. What's remarkable, when you think about it is that the story appeared almost exactly 30 years before the first actual moon landing–and we are now more than forty years beyond that moon landing–and haven't been back to the moon in nearly 40 years. That is certainly something that the science fiction of the Golden Age didn't predict.
Brand Fanshaw was a renaissance man. He designed, built and flew the rocket to the moon. Obviously, way over-simplified from the reality, which took hundreds of the thousands of people a decade of work to pull off. But the real theme of the story–what is Masson's Secret–is what does it mean to be alive or dead? And there are early hints in this piece of the larger theme that A. J. Budry's touched on in his novel Rogue Moon.
I just have to quote Brand's description of the moon as he describes it to the world before his crash:
"The Moon's almost a dead world now. Though in the crater Copernicus I found some evidence of existing microscopic life. There is still some slight trace of water and air in the craters you see–at least, in Copernicus, where I landed. I found salt incrustations, and some primitive clamlike fossils, too. The big craters must have been salt lakes, fed by subterranean springs for a while after the volcanic heat cooled off."
Next was my second favorite story of the issue, "Ether Breather" by Theodore Sturgeon. I loved the story from the first words because it's opening was completely and utterly meta, describing the story "The Seashell" and its various rejections. Sturgeon's story ended up being a tale of television technology and beings that lived within the waves that color broadcasts created. It was the best writing in the issue by far, and the story was enjoyable, but not quite as much fun for me as "Masson's Secret" with all of its implications. Sturgeon's story, however, was also funny, especially the scene in which the protagonists script is altered and broadcast, well, slightly differently:
Now his lines, as written–and I should know!–went:
"Rosalind… it is you, then, isn't it? Oh, I'm afraid"–he grasps her shoulders–"afraid that it can't be real. So many times I've seen someone who might be you, and it has never been… Rosalind, Rosalind, guardian angel, reason for living, beloved… beloved–" Clinch.
Now, as I say, it went off as written, up to and including the clinch. But then came the payoff. He took his lips from hers, buried his face in her hair and said clearly: "I hate your ——- guts." And that "——-" was the most perfectly enunciated present participle of a four-letter very I have ever heard.
Ha! I laugh just thinking about it. It reminds me of how sitcoms these days can sometimes find clever ways to get around the network censors.
The final piece in this issue was the concluding part of "General Swamp C.I.C." by Frederick Engelhardt. The nice thing about serials is that if you don't like the first part, you don't have to read the second part. And as you will recall, I didn't like the first part of this military strategy story at all, and so I must admit that I decided not to waste my time on the second part. I am only slightly ashamed at this. My excuse is that there will, from time-to-time be stuff that I just don't like. I read enough of the story to describe why I didn't like it back in Episode 2. I am on vacation here and why further spoil that vacation with stuff I don't like. Of course, there is risk here. The concluding installment might be brilliant. Well, if so, I won't know it unless someone else tells me it is brilliant, in which case maybe I'll reconsider my decision.
The Analytical Laboratory in the September issue lists stories for the July 1939 issue, which is the first issue that I read on my Vacation. I will list the AnLab results below as they appeared in the September issue. I will follow each listing with a number in parentheses, which is the place in which I put that story in my own rating of the issue. You can always refer back to Episode 1 for more information. Here are the AnLab results for the July 1939 issue:
Black Destroyer by A.E. van Vogt (2)
Greater Than Gods by C.L. Moore (1)
Trends by Isaac Asimov (4)
City of the Cosmic Rays by Nat Schachner (7)
When the Half Gods Go by Amelia R. Long (5)
One of my criticisms of Schachner's story was the seeming lack of background on the 3 characters, but I have learned (thought the letter columns since) that this is the third in a series of ongoing stories he'd written. Ah well…
Here are my ratings for the September 1939 issue:
Masson's Secret by Raymond Z. Gallun
Ether Breather by Theodore Sturgeon
The Last Hope by Don Evans
Forces Must Balance by Manly Wade Wellman
Atmospherics by Victor Valding
Since I didn't read the concluding part of "General Swamp" I won't include it on my listing.
The Brass Tacks was another highlight of the magazine and I feel like I could do an entire Episode or two on just the letter columns. In reading the letters this time around, I found myself wondering: could the authors of these letters, most of whom were simply science fiction fans, have imagined that their letters would still be read more than seven decades from the time they were first printed?
There are not one but two letters by Isaac Asimov in this issue. The first is a very long letter with a detailed review of the June 1939 issue. Keep in mind that this letter was printed two months after Asimov has a story in Astounding but he still sounds very fannish in his comments and criticisms. His second later was printed in the "Science" section of the letter column, and it was typically of the Asimov know-it-all (which he eventually tried to suppress with limited success in later life), correcting Willy Ley on a detail of Greek mythology.
There is also a letter by Damon Knight, very brief and to-the-point, providing (instructing?) Campbell with a table that tells him which artists should be used for which purposes, e.g. "Dold–good on weirds. Steer him clear of nude or seminude humans." And of course, he doesn't pull his punches: "Thompson, Marchioni, Gilmore, Binder, Kirchner, Wert, et. cetera–never, never, never!"
As I said, this wasn't what I would consider to be one of those classic issues, but the letter column, Richardson's article, and the couple of good stories I found helped to make up for that.
The October 1939 issue, which for months now has been plugged, is upon me. This issue contains part 1 of the 4-part "Gray Lensman" novel by "Doc" Smith. It's a good thing I have all four parts. It also contains stories by Malcolm Jameson, John Berryman, Harry Walton and another Lee Gregor. And unlike my September issue, which was leaving flakes of pulp all over the place, my October 1939 issue is in nearly mint condition.
And you can read all about it in a week.
Read Episode 2
See all Vacation in the Golden Age posts
Superbowl Sunday 2011
I'm surprised that Superbowl Sunday has not yet been declared an official National Holiday, for all of the publicity it gets, and for how little ends up getting done. It has to be one of the least productive Sunday's of the year. Unless you count gluttony, in which case, it has to be one of the most productive Sunday's of the year. I say this as a die-hard baseball fan, with little patience for the lesser sport. From what I recall of the actual event, the best part is the commercials–unless Janet Jackson is performing, in which case the best part is the peep show.
When I lived in L.A., my Superbowl Sunday was typically spent at Disneyland. Really, it's one of the best days of the year to go if you want to avoid the crowds. Today, Kelly and I are heading to a shower for some friends of ours who are having their first baby sometime soon. I have no idea what time the Superbowl is on TV, but it's a safe bet that I won't be watching it.
All that said, this is a free country and I can be both derisive about the lesser sport and at the same time, choose sides. Or as Kelly likes to say, vote for a team. In this case, I'll stick with my comrades in Pittsburgh and vote for them to win the game. (Yes: I had to go and look up who was playing.) Go Steelers! (Weren't the Steelers big in the 70s. Or maybe the early 80s? I seem to recall a time in grade school when you were either a Steelers fan or a Cowboys fan. I don't think I knew there were any other teams.)
So if you're a fan of the lesser sport, happy Superbowl Sunday. (I believe that term is trademarked.) And if you don't care for football: good for you! Way to declare your independence. After all, we know in the end that baseball is the superior sport.
Far Away Places and Science Fiction
I don't generally listen to music while I write. The problem is that I can't split my attention: if I listen to the music, I don't write; if I write, I don't hear the music. There have been one or two rare exceptions, but 99% of the time, I write with nothing in the background–all noise canceled by my trusty Bose headphones.
But that is not to say that there aren't songs that motivate me to write, and if you asked me what the number one motivational song for writing science fiction is, I'd tell you that for me, it's Bing Crosby's rendition of "Far Away Places." I first heard the song some time in 1995 or 1996 when I got a 4-disc set of Bing Crosby tunes. If you are not familiar with it, that's too bad because it's a lovely song. It was written by Joan Whitney and Alex Kramer. Bing recorded it in 1948 and it made it to #2 on the pop charts. The opening lines of the song go:
Far away places, with strange sounding names
Far away over the sea–
Those far away places, with the strange sounding names
Are calling, calling, me.
Now I realize that the sound was written about exotic places on Earth, but I can't help thinking about far away places in the solar system, in the galaxy, even the universe, whenever I hear the song. The song reminds me of the travel that you can do within your own imagination, if your are so inclined, and moreover, the places you can go in someone else's imagination, if they know how to tell a good story. If I am in the middle of the work day, or busy with some chore or other activity, and I hum or hear the line:
...I want to see for myself
Those far away places, I've been reading about
In a book that I took from the shelf…
I'm reminded of a summer day, sitting in the shade, with a chair propped against a wall and a copy of Isaac Asimov's Foundation in my hands. I think of all of the wonderful and amazing science fiction stories I've read that convey the sense of wonder about far away places that is described in the song. And whenever I am sitting in front of my keyboard at a complete loss for what words should come next, I'll queue up the song in iTunes and let it play two or three times, while I close my eyes and try to imagine those places Bing is singing about. It works every time. The song even makes a cameo appearance in my first published science fiction story, "When I Kissed the Learned Astronomer".
"Far Away Places" is all about sense of wonder, and the kind of science fiction I love to read (and write) is also about that sense of wonder. And so it is no wonder the two are a perfect match.
February 5, 2011
Secret project – revealed!
I know I said that I wasn't going to reveal the Secret Project until March 1, but I simply can't take it anymore–and the project defeated me. Allow me to explain. Here is the result of my Secret Project after a mere 10 days:
Do not adjust your screen: that is me attempting to grow a beard. I've never attempted it in any earnest way before and this time, I thought I was prepared. I looked up how to do it. Don't shave for 4 weeks. There will be an itchy phase. People will ask, "Are you growing a beard." It's the "itchy phase" that defeated me. Although I tried all of the tricks I could find: washing my face with a anti-dandruff shampoo; using over the counter hydrocortisone cream, it just got worse and worse until today, I just couldn't stop itching. It had been my plan to go to Santa Monica with a full beard and surprise everyone there, but it just isn't going to happen. There's no way I'd last 4 weeks. I couldn't even last 10 days.
And so, as of about 15 minutes ago, relief:
I'm disappointed I couldn't make it all four weeks, but boy-oh-boy, do I feel so much better. The itch that has plagued me for the last week and a half is gone. I feel like a new man!
Coming to L.A.
I have a business trip at the end of the month. I'm heading to Santa Monica for 4 days for my team's annual planning retreat. I'll be staying at my usual digs in Santa Monica and I just wanted to let folks know that I will be there in case any friends or family that I haven't already gotten in touch with are interested in getting together. My time is pretty limited, but I'll be as flexible as I can. I get into town on Monday, February 28 and fly home on Friday, March 4. The retreat is a few weeks earlier this year than previous years, which is nice because it seems like for the past few years, I've ended up flying on my birthday.
Kelly and the Little Man won't be coming with me this time. Work and school conflict.
Approaching 4,000 posts
I noticed this morning that I'm fast approaching my 4,000th post. I started regular blogging back in January 2006 and virtually never missed a day for the next three and a half years or so. Things tapered off for a while, I posted much less frequently, but since October or so, I've been back to regular posting and it seems that this will continue into the foreseeable future.
Like diaries, many people start blogs and I imagine they often last a week, a month, perhaps even a year. Even so, I imagine that the posts grow more infrequent unless there is some reason to continue. I enjoy blogging, and I have made some good friends through the process. I like the social interaction, the discussions and comments. Most of all, I like the feedback that I get. Despite the fact that I originally started this for myself, as a kind of fun activity to keep me writing, I've had a number of people tell me that they enjoy my posts and that pleases me and keeps me going.
4,000 posts seems pretty remarkable to me. I'm no John Scalzi, but I think it does show a fair amount of dedication.
And so, as I approach this milestone, it occurred to me that the 4,000th post should be something special. And I'm looking for suggestions. I'm not sure that I've ever asked readers of this blog for suggestions on blog topics before and that is long overdue. So, if you are a reader of this blog and you have an idea for s special topic for my 4,000th post, leave a comment with the suggestion. I'll pick the one I like the best and use it for the 4,000th post. And if there are more than a few suggestions, I'll use the others as an occasional lead-up to that 4,000th post.
