The problem with all that gun/zombie marketing, a theological debate with my daughter, two new Send My Love and a Molotov Cocktail! reviews, The Gits

I've been writing hard the last week, so I haven't had a whole lot of time to spend on the internet. Got a project due by mid-month that I can't seem to be moderate about. Not that I've got much of a wish to.

But a couple of things on my mind. The first being the new trend among firearm and ammunition manufacturers to tap into the current zombie hype. As I posted awhile back, Hornady is now producing a line of ammo called Zombie Max.

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And Taurus, never a corporation to shy away from stupid marketing tricks, is selling a special version of one of their useless Judge pistols as a Zombie Responder.

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Anyway, it's not something I've put much thought into, except to think it was kind of stupid. But then Scott Gillette left this comment on my Zombie Max post:

Given that, in certain circles, 'zombie' is a euphemism for a homeless black person wandering the streets after a cataclysmic event, I'm not sure what to make of it, either.

It's all well and good to indulge fantasies about the walking dead, but manufacturing a real world product to address a fictional problem is weird. Given that the product in question (rifle ammunition) has been used on real people (Danziger Bridge) that fit the euphemistic definition of zombie, I'm not sure what Hornady's marketing department was thinking.

That lead me over to Urban Dictionary, where, sure enough, definition #8 read:

A synonym to the "n" word used usually by white people in a a "ghetto" area. The term is used out of fear of being stabbed, shot or raped.

1. Holy shit, this place is full of zombies.

2. That zombie has a gun, I just know it.

3. HELP! THERE ARE ZOMBIES EVERYWHERE!

So take that as you will. I know I'm a little less amused with the whole concept now.

Also, and entirely unrelated, the other night my eight-year-old daughter came up with an answer to a theological debate we've been having for about two years. It began when she asked me why I didn't believe in God. I gave the standard answer: that I couldn't believe in a God who would allow — or in Job's case, cause — innocent people to suffer. To get sick, fall victim to disaster, etc.

Well, last night she figured that out. "Everybody has to be different," she said. "That's why God does what he does."

"What do mean?" I asked.

"I mean, that's why God lets people suffer. So they can be different than one another."

"So that's what causes people to be individuals? Suffering?"

She looked at me like I was stupid. "Of course."

For which, of course, I had absolutely no response.

Anyway, speaking of suffering, there's a new review from John Koenig of Send My Love and a Molotov Cocktail! in which I have a new (and very long) short story:

Some pretty heavy hitters are included in this collection:  Michael Moorcock, Sara Paretsky, Cory Doctorow, and many others.  Send My Love and a Molotov Cocktail reminds me of an era gone by, writers from a different time, and attitudes not often seen today. This isn't pulp fiction; these are splendid wordsmiths.

And even cooler, the first review from Publishers Weekly is in, and calls out my favorite editor, Andrea Gibbons:

The 18 mostly original stories in this thought-provoking crime anthology offer gritty testament to the violence, cunning, and resilience of people pushed to the brink. Phillips and Gibbons showcase some major talent, notably Sara Paretsky ("Poster Child"), but less well-known authors also make solid contributions. In John A Imani's moving "Nickels and Dimes," a black observer of a confrontation between police and protestors in 1972 Los Angeles becomes a reluctant participant and de facto leader. Gibbons's "The El Rey Bar" brilliantly conveys the chaos, the hopelessness, and the despair engendered during an L.A. riot. SF ace Kim Stanley Robinson's exotic "The Lunatics" explores the issue of forced labor amid an attempted slave revolt on the moon. On the down side, Michael Moorcock's lengthy "Gold Diggers of 1977," first published in 1980, will be incomprehensible to those unfamiliar with the story of the Sex Pistols.

Send My Love and a Molotov Cocktail! has also been chosen for the G20 reading week, which I thought was very cool.

Lastly, to that writing project I've been working on. This has been the soundtrack. And the content. Enjoy.

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