According To Hoyt

Sorry. Was going to post, but woke up with a migraine-ish, then decided it was the excess cat hair causing it, so have been cleaning.

It’s that sort of day.

The problem with the struggles of our day: minimum wage; universal health; the perfect family; the perfect marriage; the perfect career is that people have forgotten that nothing is always an option.

No, seriously. Let’s take minimum wage for a spin on this.

People keep gabbing on about the “minimum wage” and “a living wage” as if the only reason people aren’t paid whatever it is they hanker for is the infinite greed of infinitely evil “capitalists.” I mean, I’ve seen them rage on line about how “capitalism” is the worst possible system. Because so much greed and materialism and no one is giving them i-phones for free. Or something.

BUT here’s the thing: I actually have run a business for well nigh on thirty years. And I have friends who are business owners and business managers.

I think I’m not paying enough to my assistant, my copyeditor, and I d*mn well know I’m not paying enough to my editor.

Is it my evil capitalist greed? Put a sock in it. Until I did the blog fundraiser (still figuring out delivery of rewards, and if I can’t I’ll put them out in public which defeats the principle, yes, but also makes sure they are DELIVERED. Except for mentoring and tuckerizing, because there are few of those, and they’re personal. I don’t like owing and not delivering. For next time I have…. ideas. Since I can’t use Paypal, anyway.) I couldn’t afford to pay them, at all. Every time I paid, it was money taken from the ability to pay for something else that I sorely needed. That was, if you remember, the whole reason of the fundraiser. And now I’m using that money (and will use this year’s however much it turns out to be) to push the fiction writing to earning its living. So I can pay my people “a living wage.”

TL/DR most business owners are very conscious of the debt they owe their people, up to and including having tabs in their back brain for “must give x a bonus when I’m making y level”. We know that our people, if they’re worth spit (and small businesses are very careful to only RETAIN the ones who are) are worth whatever we can pay them. And we’re competing with everyone else out there, including bigger and badder people who can take our people and pay them more. There are bonds of loyalty both ways that help, but I don’t expect them to hurt themselves for my sake. I really don’t.

We pay what we pay because it’s what we can pay.

For the longest time, I told people “Yes, I’d love to have an assistant. I need one. I just can’t AFFORD one.” Same for cleaning lady, whatever.

I still can’t afford a cleaner. What I can pay isn’t enough. So I don’t pay.

I’d have been willing, back in the day, to hire someone with a kid. They could bring the kid. They could help. They could get food or instruction in writing, or whatever alongside pay.

My mom always had a young woman who came and did dishes, in exchange for mom making them clothes. Not the same young woman. they tended to get married.

If mom had had to pay minimum wage, we’d have had unwashed dishes pile up. And the girl would have had fewer clothes of less quality and never have attracted eye of future husband, maybe.

So, you know, the person I maybe could have hired and contributed a bit towards that person’s family budget and a lot for his/her learning to write or whatever, in exchange for her/him coming over and dusting, vacuuming, doing the cat boxes, making sure bathrooms were less than gross, maybe starting dinner (though unlikely, as I usually do that early morning) never got that money/help. And I never got help and produced less. And got sick when I tried to shoulder house and writing and everything, because there are limits to the flesh.

But I couldn’t afford minimum wage, or contributions to social security. So we got nothing. Nothing is always an option.

In the same way, if your jobs at McDonald’s are mandated to pay $20 an hour? Mickey D’s will automate. And the would be cashiers will be unemployed. They get nothing.

I know that some special kind of idiot is out there rubbing his hands and saying “Good. Minimum wage stops exploitation. These people are better off on welfare. At least they have their dignity.”

Uh, do they? They also have no resume, no way to prove they’re worthy/able to hold a job. Which means it’s not just this first, low paying job they can’t get. It means when a bigger job comes along they also can’t get that, because they never learned.

But let’s game it beyond the individual: Minimum wage is decreed at whatever you need not to starve in NYC or LA. Let’s say $20. There, you showed those evil capitalist pigs.

This doesn’t mean that everyone who is working at the entry level now gets $20. It means half of them get laid off and get nothing.

No, not because of greed. Because the alternative is the business closes.

But even with laying off half, most businesses do need the work force. I think half the restaurants are using “labor shortage” as an excuse. They just can’t afford to pay for what they need. And as we’re seeing… well, it’s a spiral. fewer workers, longer waits less “fun” experience for clients, who start eating out less, because what’s the point, and then– It spirals.

So even with businesses doing what they can to stay in business, and a lot of people getting nothing, all commerce structures spiral down. Businesses close. Farms close. Restaurants close. A whole lot of people get nothing, and we all get less: Fewer options, less enjoyment, fewer opportunities, less wealth.

“Good,” says the twit. “Welfare will provide for all, and when everything crashes, we get socialism, and then it’s utopia.”

Uh uh. First, it is already socialism. The government is already controlling the means of production that are theoretically owned by someone else. The means of distribution too, though Marx never got it. And that’s not utopia. It’s what’s strangling everything and ensuring we get nothing. Second, at the end of this lies NOTHING. Welfare might give you a check for a hundred million Somollians. Where are you going to spend it? The stores are closed, the shelves are bare. The farms have killed the cattle and shut down because they can’t afford the electricity and water let alone labor.

What are you going to do? Try to convince people barely cultivating enough for subsistence to give you their stuff? You’re going to need tanks. How are you going to get there? There’s no gas stations open.

But Sarah, you say: We already have minimum wage, and things haven’t collapsed. Why not raise it.

Yeah, we have minimum wage. And an illegal workers problem, because people can’t pay it. Also a growing and increasingly less capable welfare class. And we’re sort of tottering along. And money is coming from somewhere.

Specifically money is coming from thin air, spun by the Federal government. Which sooner or later crashes. We’re being protected by being the World’s reserve currency. Or IOW we’re being protected from our own folly because others are worse. That can’t go on forever. And if I understand correctly, the whole world is tottering on the edge of the abyss.

But we are getting poorer. We’ve seen it these last two years with all sorts of benevolent mandates and hand outs. The wealth ultimately comes from all of us. We lose discretionary spending. We lose what we need to do more than subsist.

We’re already on the path to getting nothing.

But the idiot-ignorants keep pushing. “Free universal health care” they say. Only like food, or an apartment, that requires others’ labor.

Yes, our doctors are paid more than in Europe. That’s because their training is twice as long and twice as expensive. So they kind of need the money. They have enormous debt and are starting careers in their thirties. Tell them they have to work for “X” and they leave the profession in droves. They already have over Obamacare and its senseless mandates. More will if they can’t pay their debt anyway. Better work at something with less stress. And then we import…. well, seems to be mostly Chinese (but also a lot of third world) doctors, who aren’t trained the same. Yeah, they’ll work for less. But you know, then we get nothing. Because we don’t get the medicine we are used to/what’s needed to keep living/be well.

NOTHING is always an option.

Women holding out for the perfect career, whether or not the have the training because they’re women, hear them roar. (Oh, men too, but–) In the end what they get is nothing. Nothing is always an option. Because getting where you want to go requires a lot of compromise, of trades, and of clawing onward on bleeding fingernails.

You demand the thing you want? Well, the world has no reason to give it to you. And even if the government mandates you get it it’s likely to turn to dust and ashes, because you haven’t learned, fought and worked to be ready to do it. (Look at the Naval Observatory and the world’s most visible diversity hire.) In the end, you get nothing.

Same, btw, with holding out for the perfect marriage mate, which is germane to this because some clever fools are agitating for the government to arrange marriages. (That makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? Because there are things the bureaucrats haven’t f*cked up still.) So, you know, beauty and competence aren’t hoarded.

Now these people are mostly spitting in the wind, and trying to wishcast, but then — looks at last two years — are you saying these idiots won’t seize on it as a benevolent thing they can do?

It’s important to remember, when we agitate for mandates, or more likely the young and stupid do, that yeah, people might be getting a raw deal. But the alternative to raw deal isn’t perfection. The alternative to raw deal is often nothing.

Sure, sure, there are actual greedy businessmen. They don’t partake of the nature of angels. There are greedy everything.

But here’s the thing: Most people aren’t “greedy”. Sure they want more than they have, but they’re willing to work for it. (And if you think running a business isn’t work, you’ve never done it.) And they’re willing to pay others to work for them, because at some point all businesses hit grow-or-die.

You break that, you tell them “you must pay x now” and most businesses die.

And if there’s one thing we know is that “government” isn’t even competent to wipe its own arse. Its two core areas of competence seem to be taking people’s money and hurting people. (Yes, I know, it also has prescribed functions, and I have no problem with them under the Constitution. But that requires taking a lot less money and hurting a lot less people. And I’m not saying they’ll do those things WELL just that sometimes it’s better than doing nothing.) So, no, the government is not going to look after all you stray lambkins when you get nothing.

NOTHING IS ALWAYS AN OPTION.

And nothing will break everything. Not just capitalism, but socialist dreams and civilization itself, eventually.

So tell all the idiots pushing for “living wage” and “free healthcare”: Nothing is always an option.

And in the end, you’re hastening the day of nothing.

That’s all. You get nothing.

Story is not reality. And fiction often takes liberties with reality.

While I find the injection of leftist politics or climate change “facts” into every possible TV series, it’s not enough to make me want to put a shoe through the TV.

And my husband knows that if he insists on watching TV while I’m in the room, he will have to put up with my occasional commentary, when I look up from typing and hear something particularly egregious. My commentary is rarely profane. It usually is more like “Pshaw.” And “In your dreams that’s proven.” Or “What world are you living in?”

I find politics in entertainment products annoying, but I also know the left can’t help themselves.

No, it’s the other stuff that really gets to me, and often makes me shout, “Hon, you can’t watch this while I’m here. Not if you like that TV.”

Of course, we’ve been married a long time. When I say that he was usually about ten seconds from turning it off himself.

The other stuff? Yeah. the “of course this is the world and how it works.” That stuff, because it’s just part of the setup slides under the radar for most people. I don’t even know if I catch it because I have a writer’s brain or because I have a small Cold War Injury that only hurts when I laugh, and I ain’t laughing.

Stuff that gets to me: No one is clean. No, listen to me: NO ONE IS CLEAN. Not even the so called hero, who is often the most despicable of them all, but hey he kills bad guys, so he’s wonnerful.

However not only is everyone cheating, stealing and killing as a matter of course, but they’re also engaging in all forms of sexual depravity real and imaginary.

This is why btw in the left’s mind the worst crime is “hypocrisy” because everyone is the worst of the worst all the time, and pretending to be good is only done to make others feel bad. Because why else would you do it.

I often wonder if that’s why every lefty politician (or businessman) once you scratch the surface is a horror show. And which came first. Is it because they all are like this, or because they grew up thinking everyone is like this?

And the entire worldbuilding is bizarre and exhausting, when you bake that in. Look, I’m not the nicest person int he world, but where would I find time to have underage sex slaves? And where would I keep them? And who has the energy? EVEN SUPPOSING I HAD ANY INTEREST. Ditto with a drug habit. (Well, coffee, but–) Or the multiple affairs on the side. Or attending Satanist masses or whatever the heck I’m supposed to be doing according to the left’s perception of the world.

It’s like “Dude, I’m late on a short story and three novels. I’m going to have to pass up on the sex cult this month again. Sorry.”

Then there is the society. No, seriously.

First, the power brokers in the society are always white and what I’d call “Southern preachers” even when they aren’t. Heck, they’re Southern Preachers circa 1980, with the hair and the suits. And these will be corporate officers or whatever.

Have your female character get a job in a corporation and she’d either going to be asked if she’s a Christian, or treated like an oddity and like she’s overreaching herself.

I’ll be honest: I’ve been in the US for almost 40 years. NONE OF THAT HAS BEEN TRUE EVER. Even in the eighties the assumption if you were “smart” is that you were an atheist and any mention of going to church would get you made fun of. Because it was pushed in all the colleges that that was backward and “ignorant.” It was also pushed in all the entertainment even back then.

Unless a corporation is specifically I don’t know “United Baptist Books” (meh. I’m out of coffee. It’s best I can come up with.) You’re not going to get asked about your religion. And even there you’re unlikely to.

And all the characters somehow got brought up in this oppressive ultra-Christian, ultra-conformist society that might once have existed somewhere, in a small town in the South circa 1950 but I doubt it, because I grew up in an oppressively mono-religious little village, and even then there were dissenters and scoffers, and if they weren’t actually frontally attacking the majority they were ignored and tolerated.

AND despite getting brought up in that kind of background and acting shocked at the stupidest things, if a scene calls for them to talk about sex, they reveal knowledge of perversions I never heard about before, and note I learned about sex from Roman mythology first.

Then there are the …. Look, climate alarmism is a thing that in the provincial backwaters of academia and associated fields gets taken for revealed truth. Even though none act as if it were really true. I mean, look, if you really think we’ve passed the point of no return, and are all going to be dead in ten years why are you saving for retirement? I figure the back of their brains is much smarter than they are. But never mind.

But why is it that even the characters who don’t believe in it never laugh and say “that’s nonsense?” No, the characters always say things like “I don’t care if the world burns.” Like there is no room at all to question the nonsense. Anyone who doesn’t believe in the church of holy Gaia is obviously stupid. This is probably virtue signaling, or maybe the writers really being that dumb, but the result is that if you have a modicum of science training, you find yourself looking at the screen and going “They’re all mentally deficient” which adds another layer of horror to the setting.

And then there is the other “of course.” OF COURSE a white character is racist, no matter how they hide it, or even if they work tirelessly for racial harmony. OF COURSE a Muslim character has been bullied and treated badly (note, there is almost no incidence of this. At all. There are more hate crimes against Jews than Muslims. Also my laugh out loud moment was the Muslim guy who grew up in Denver talking about all the Christians putting him down. I was going “Dude, just DUDE. There are more open Muslims than open Christians in Denver, because big city and …. What?”)

The compound world of all these “of courses” is a horrible, nasty place, where every human is feral, women are more discriminated against than in the Middle East and oh, yeah, there is no way to get ahead except by thieving, murdering and defrauding others.

And all of this gets put in the back of people’s heads by not being part of the main plot, just “how things are.” Which means they will confuse it with lived experience.

When you wonder where the left comes from? They come from TVlandia, and it’s a terrible place.

They’re so convinced the world is like that that they can’t even perceive the real world. And that’s before you get to all the alarmism nonsense about climate or whatever is the thing today.

I wish there was a miracle to remove the blinders and let them see they don’t have to be miserable. But if it exists, I haven’t found it.

And I don’t know how to combat this dropping of sludge into the soul except by creating better worlds and keeping pushing them out there.

Under over and around. Because there’s no other way.

What Matters Most When All Is Said And Done – A Blast From the Past from October 2008

Thought out of nowhere — or perhaps not since I’ve “faced” this in many books and stories, from Tom in Draw One In The Dark facing the Great Sky Dragon and knowing there’s no way he walks out of there alive, to the girl in Something Worse Hereafter — in the Wings collection — who knows she’s dead, but there’s a second death and not how permanent, to probably countless others I’ve forgotten.

Those last few minutes fascinate me.  Oh, people die in their sleep, people die without knowing they’re going to die, but I suspect most of us are starkly wide awake for the end and we know there’s no return, that this time there will be no save.  We come into the world without knowing ourselves, and all the time we’ve known ourselves we’ve been alive.  How is it to face the undiscovered country?

This is wholly separate from religion, btw.  I’m one of those for whom faith requires and effort and a silencing of the mind.  I know what they say is on the other side, but is there?  Curiously I never doubt those I love or have loved go on, cats and dogs and people alike.  The world would have to be a nonsensical thing and life less than sound and fury for death to erase my beloved paternal grandmother, my flawed maternal grandfather or the childhood friend who died much too young.  It would have to be a strange place to have forever destroyed Petronius the Arbiter, cat from Hades.  No, somewhere I’m sure they’re alive and still integrally themselves, as is Pixel the “speaker to the humans” orange fuzzball I miss everyday.

But those people — yeah, cats are people too, got a problem? — were special individuals, in their own way saints of heroes or… bigger than life.  As for me, who am none of those, who can tell? I have a vague idea life continues in some form and hope there will be books and cats, if I’ve been very, very good, but the preferred outcome might be that there is nothing but oblivion.  Perhaps this makes me morbid, but my secret wish is that there is literally nothing on the other side.  Just… as though I’d never existed.  After life’s fitful fever (s)he sleeps well and all that.

Once I came  close enough to those final moments that it seemed a sure thing.  In fact, during an eleven day stay in hospital I came close to crossing that gateway at least twice.  (Might have been three times.  My blood ox was so low most of the time, that I don’t remember very clearly.  Brain damaged, I tell you.)  So… what was there? 

Well, like the prospect of being hanged in the morning, coming face to face with your mortality at 33 does concentrate the mind wonderfully.  There are so many things I want, so many things I think, so many things I am.  And then when it all came to the end, in the silence at the eye of the storm, it all settled down and simplified.  I regretted leaving my husband and was sure if there was something on the other side, I WOULD miss him; I worried for my boys, then one and five.  But above all, around all, I felt as if the novels and stories I’d never written — at the time I was unpublished and had only written five? novels — were screaming at having to die with me.

Yes, my life changed after I got better and left the hospital.  At many times and places people have told me I need to close the office door.  I need to keep the kids out.  I must swat the cats off the keyboard.  I can’t stop in midst novel to go cuddle my husband.  Pardon me but… poppycock.  What comes after is a mystery, but one thing I know and that is that if any form of awareness or thought or memory subsists, I’ll miss my family and friends.  I’m not a good person, but those I love — and not just in terms of sexual love, but my friends too, those I refer to as being “within the magic circle” yes, even my e-daughters and other friends that I’ve only met online :) — I love deeply and I enjoy their company and I will do so as long as I can.

The other thing is that I started taking the writing more seriously — without neglecting my family or friends.  It went from being a wishful, sort of hobby that might one day be a job, and it became a driving passion.  And the reason I write as much as I do.  I don’t want those stories to die unread, in my head.  Life is too important to waste, unlived.  And stories are born to be heard.

Other than that?  I don’t know.  I’ve faced it so many times in writing — what will it be like in real life, and how will I feel when it comes?  One thing I know — it will come.  It sounds like one of those sixties truisms, like “we’re all naked under our clothes” but life TRULY is a fatal condition, and everyone dies eventually.  To pretend otherwise robs our life of urgency and strength. 

All I can hope is that if I’m required to face it before I expect to, I’ll do so with courage, because whether there’s nothing on the other side; whether the dreary dust-world of the ancients lurks; whether resurrection and eternal life looms…  in all of those, I’m sure that for those left behind the manner of one’s death will count.  For some reason — probably the movie — I’m thinking of the Greeks at the Hot Gates.  The manner of their death sure as hell mattered.

And for the rest, I’ll leave it in the words of one of those men long dead who I’m sure is alive and vibrant somewhere, and probably still writing:

Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard.
It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come when it will come.

This morning in the shower, as we were discussing world-building (as one does. Well, one does in my family) the Mathematician reminded me of Esperanto.

So the cue was “But why would their writing be like that” for very odd world you’ll get by the by. And the answer was “because the language is synthetic and created by crazy people.” And then he groaned and said “Esperanto.”

I never learned Esperanto. I think I was in my forties before I stopped feeling guilty over that.

For those of you who weren’t around and aware in the seventies: half of my friends in languages and linguistics were also learning Esperanto in their own time.

I paid for courses in Swedish and Italian and to continue French after not in my curriculum, but I never paid for Esperanto, and back then I couldn’t tell you why. It might honestly have been that I hated — HATED HATED HATED — sanctimony and the whole “We’re learning Esperanto, because it’s the language of the future, when the Earth is united and there’s no more war” just rubbed me the wrong way.

In retrospect, looking at it, it was a completely crazy idea, on the same level as communism, or the UN. And btw, back then I was still stupid enough to think I should work for the UN because that would help with world peace. (This is a peculiar European delusion. They can’t stand to attribute their long stretch of peace of Pax Americana, so the UN it must be.)

And it was completely crazy in the way that even the Heinlein books before he took his world tour were crazy: because they assumed that the entire world would retool to take on the more “functional” culture of the US.

It was a beautifully insane delusion, which completely ignored the fact that cultures are real and stubborn things. To be fair, the left still doesn’t get that. They don’t understand that humans are social beings, and therefore are not just beings of flesh and mind, but beings of culture. And cultures, frankly — though I don’t know how much people get that — are almost like living, sentient beings. Which means they will find ways not to die, including but not limited to, infiltrating the conquering culture.

The only way that universal future culture would work would have been if the US — at the time it would have to be the US — had conquered the whole world in fire and blood and imposed our language and culture, including taking kids very young and raising them away from their parents. (Assuming you didn’t kill all the parents.)

Much less replacing a language with a synthetic language — imagining that synthetic languages would not evolve and separate and become organic — which falls under “if only everyone”.

No one is going to fall in with any of this, which is why Esperanto never happened. It’s why the UN where it does anything is with other people’s troops. (And because it’s a worldwide organization and the sh*tholes greatly outnumber the functional countries, the things it can enforce are usually horrendous, horrifying, and shouldn’t ever happen.)

It’s also why Communism would never have happened without force. The force mostly being financed by the rich of the world or the incredibly corrupt (China) or both, in so far as Communism is a great system to impose all sorts of totalitarianism under the flag of, from Fascism to Feudalism.

Without force, Communism becomes Esperanto. The thing you look at in a few years and go “Oh, yeah, I remember when that used to be cool.”

The thing is, even with force it’s not any great thing. Because think about it, ladies, gentlemen, and small furry animals: they’ve been trying to take over the world for a over a century. 1984 was predicted for… well, 1984. And the thing is, after a crest of looking plausible around the 1970s, they’ve been steadily losing ground.

Because they’re like Esperanto with an army. No matter how much force you use, people will still think its stupid, and they’re not going to learn your made up words. Or if they try they find themselves quite out of words for the functions of every day life, like swearing at your enemies or making fun of your cat.

We’re going to win this. It’s going to be difficult because in a way it’s a struggle as old as mankind. Most of us want to be left alone, but a few bright boys and girls want to dictate everything we do and say and think. (Spoiler, they ain’t that bright. Burned light bulb in coal cellar at best.)

But the current vehicle is beyond silly. And it is one of a parcel of ah… mid century modern ideas hinging on “If only everyone.”

Those just can’t work. They just can’t. Because they might be great for some species. But not ours.

The soonest they die, the best for everyone concerned. And the ideas have to die, not the people. (Sure, you can kill the people too. But that never killed an idea. In fact having martyrs to the cause tends to make the cause seem way more urgent, important and VIABLE than it ever was.)

So, put on your armor of irony and ridicule, and once more into the culture trenches my friends.

Let’s laugh them out of existence.

Let’s talk about AI and the arts.

No. Come out from under the table, you cowards. Seriously. This must be talked about. And not in the “REEEEE someone is stealing mah immortal art” sense. Nor in the “soon, it will all be soulless echos.” We’re adults. Sit your arses down and talk like adults.

Do try not to start any firefights in the comments, and keep the fistfights to a minimum. When you’re done, mop the blood from the floor. Fluffy has the first aid kit.

As you know, I think, I used MidJourneybot as the basis of my new covers. And then I did a whole lot of work to finish them. I think this gives me a unique perspective on the whole “AI art” thing. And the fact that I started life and writing life as ASL gives me another unique perspective on “The AI is gonna write all our novels. Editing will be outsourced to third worlders.” A charming point of view posited in this article which was obviously written by someone outside the industry, and which is well-thought-out, carefully argued. And profoundly wrong. And by outside the industry I mean either, writing or programing.

First what is AI, as we now know it: I got this neat explanation, though I kind of already knew what it was: It is a program that can reprogram itself on the fly by getting input from users.

It is in no way sentient, self-conscious, or as complex (this is important) as the most idiotic of moron cats. Havey, if focused on art and able to take instruction could beat it with all his paws tied behind his back.

Now that we’ve established that, let’s talk about the “morality” of the AI art robots. Note I use MidJourneybot, because it’s not just taking pictures and modifying them, which lends itself — in the hands of unscrupulous users (though note, it’s still the users) — to sailing mighty close to plagiarism.

As for using “posted art to learn” without explicit permission, I think the people worried about it have a completely inflated idea of what AI can do. No, seriously. I’ve wrestled the idiotic thing through six covers, and have more banked, in case it shats itself when I next try it. I can type in “Mona Lisa in the style of Boris Valejo” and get fifty attempts, three of whom aren’t even human, and half of which are men. (And no, we’re not at home to your conspiracy theories.)

And if I wanted Mona Lisa talking to the Thinker in front of a spaceship, in the style of Boris Vallejo…. Well, prepare to see horrors that can’t be unseen. And I don’t just mean hands everywhere. (What’s with MJB and hands, anyway) I mean the thinker with something that looks like Mona Lisa as a cat growing out of his thigh. (And before you ask, yes, I’m using the latest version and the enhanced rendering which costs more. Because I use it for covers.)

To make those covers, it took entire days of shouting (okay, typing, but I was shouting too, trust me) commands at it, plus then merging four renders per cover, sometimes to get a figure “stitched” together. It gets “weird ideas” in its head and won’t let go. Like for reasons known only to its bits and bites, for a while the figure I was trying to render for Luce, despite command of “Blond Male” rendered only as a black female. Then when it got the point, it rendered him ONLY as an anime character. As a joke I actually did an anime cover, for my fans, but it was completely unsuited for the book, of course. Let me see if I have it. Oh, yeah. Hold on:

That joke cover took me…. an afternoon, simple though it is. The real one took a little longer. I did the joke one simply because I was sick and couldn’t think in words.

A friend, who is an artist, got stung while I was going through this, and said “Why don’t you just pay an artist?”

Ah. Good question. The answer it threefold:

I’d love to hire some of Baen’s artists. Say the one who did Darkship Thieves, or the one who did Darkship Revenge (Steve Hickman.) But the truth is I can’t afford them. Certainly not for RE-issues.

Honestly, even for new books, until I get my profile up a little more by a lot of new stuff. I do probably make around 5k per reissue per year. But do note the per year. Upfront, I spend about $600 per book, which must comprise all the editing, etc, and which eats the first month’s profits.

So, I can’t afford a professional artist. The scrambling lot of “trying to break in” don’t want to do book covers. Or if they did, they don’t want to take direction on those book covers. And if you get someone from Eastern Europe or Asia, you risk copyright infringement, because they don’t care, and you don’t know everything. I’ve tried “give starting artist a chance” but none of them worked, and they cost me money.

I can afford something like Jack Wylder or Cedar Sanderson. Jack is doing my covers for the Daring Finds Mysteries, and has done new covers for Shifters, that I need to upload. I pay him about what I can afford. But he’s not right for ALL of my covers (he has a style.)

They do covers as I do covers: Piece together and overpaint, either photos from stock sites, or renders, or midjourneybot.

So, I’ve been doing my covers for a long time, mostly DAZ. But here’s the thing: I can use Midjourney bot because I DO have art training. I’m rusty as all get out. I haven’t had time or mental space for art for about six years, during which time I often didn’t have time or mental space for writing either, but did anyway. BUT I took five years of art classes.

There is nothing in those covers for the Darkship series that I couldn’t have done, myself. It just would have taken me about a month to do each. And that would mean no time for writing. What MJB does is give me the very basic, complete mess, raw materials to create the art from in a day or at worst a week. (The week usually working in the evening, after a day of writing.) Which is why I only really started doing these covers when I got a drawing screen-tablet. Before that…. it was bad. I don’t draw well with a mouse, let’s say that.

But again, note, the limitations: the bot does a person at a time, and if you really want it to work, for all you hold dear, do the background separately. It takes a lot of iterations to get something you say “I can work with that.” AND then you have to break the things apart and re-stitch them together. And that’s if you don’t get a weird run of what the bot thinks you want. Like for a while all my guys looked like Alfred P. Neuman. No seriously. I don’t know why.

Other things: even the best renders will have “signatures” or weird symbols in strange places. I laughed myself sick at the artist who “knew” it was plagiarizing him because the picture someone had shown him had a signature on the neck. (“signature” it’s mostly random scribbles.) This came through while I was erasing a “signature” from a character’s forehead. Anyway, the guy was sure because only HE signs pictures on the neck. Oh, sweet Summer Child, in eternal bloom.

And it really doesn’t do well at any type of complexity. At all. You often get confused light sources, for instance. Or– Never mind.

So, that linked article. The bots are coming for us! Writers. Novelists. We’re going to be obsolete. All that genre trash is going to be written by bots, and edited by Pakistanis and Chinese at minimum wage! Just wait.

Yes, I’m laughing myself sick again.

I’m not saying someday the bots won’t be able to write coherent novels. I kind of doubt it, but it’s entirely possible. I’d think comic books would come first, and yeah, I have a reason for that. It’s a matter of complexity.

Right now, the AI writing bots can write buzzfeed articles. Well, okay, so can elementary school kids given clear directions.

More than that, if you don’t realize it, I’ve known for years that bots can write what I call “scraped from online” non fiction books. I once bought one by accident. I was doing research on Robin Hood. Which means, first I went all over the net. Then I bought books.

This book was clearly all the info from various websites, scrambled to avoid “plagiarism” and some of the sentences, therefore, made no sense WHATSOEVER. Because scrambled.

But each chapter was super-simplistic, and just stated the information. I’ve had emails from places trying to sell me those bots.

These books show up on Amazon (you can put up a book a day with them) and get horrible reviews, get taken down and a new one shows up.

I’m not a hundred percent sure I didn’t buy a Jane Austen fanfic written by AI. It had that feel, both in that the sentences made sense, but nothing else did, and that it confused things no human being would. (Darcy’s sister is Miss Fitzwilliam, for instance. And she was seduced by Whickam at MARgate. And the sentences made individual sense, but you had to keep reading back and going “Wait, what?” because there was subtle not working together.)

Thing is, it’s limited. Right now bots can write simplistic articles. I’m not sure it could write one of my posts. (Yeah, why would it want to? Point.) And more importantly, I’m sure it can’t write a short story. It might be able to write flash fic, if you stand by to edit.

A novel is well beyond it. A novel might ALWAYS be beyond it.

“But Sarah, look how much better the AI art got! AI novels are the same thing.”

No. They’re really not. It’s more like “do a mural of the battle of Agincourt with detail and realism.”

“So it’s more complexity. They’ll get there tomorrow.”

It’s not that easy. Look, we know how to reattach fingers, say. Brain transplants might be impossible (yes, it’s great science fiction but…) because there’s that many more connections. Complexity.

And even AI is not as perfect as you’ll get the idea from say my covers. There was a lot of work. Including working on the eyes so one of the characters didn’t look palsied.

So, I think at a minimum the people who say “AIs will be writing novels next week” are crazy. Sure, there could be a sudden and massive breakthrough, but– I don’t see it.

I do see generating plots. In fact, my husband says there are already some pretty good ones. That’s different. Novels plots are patterns. You can generate patterns with bots fairly easily (And there’s enough analysis on line, it doesn’t need to be extracted from the novels themselves, which might be trickier.) The problem is writing them, after, because that’s never as linear as it seems.

The guys doing the article linked above seemed to be convinced it would be trivially easy to just write the novel from the outline. And they’re reassuring those writers that aren’t formulaic that their jobs are secure. Meaning, they think the dahlings will be secure and have nothing to fear (giggles.)

For the rest of us they foresee unemployment, as you know, the low-paid foreigners edit the bot output to make it as good as average genre writing, and we’re up a creek.

It doesn’t work the way they think. Let’s suppose by a miracle tomorrow the whole thing gets much much much better, to the level of midjourney bot, say.

That still requires a skilled novelist, just like seaming together the output of MJB requires at least a middling artist. (A good one would do way better than I do.)

And the idea that a foreign speaker can “smooth over” any oddities in the bot’s writing is probably the most giggleworthy of all. Why? Well, because let me tell you, as someone who started out ESL I had serious issues with sounding just “off” enough for an uncanny valley effect. And this was enough to put people off. Still is, when I’m ill or not functioning very well.

I was also highly amused by “They will hire” — apparently he thinks there’s a central publishing inc. that will do these things.

But let’s suppose that AI for novels gets that much better that it renders me obsolete?

What then?

Well — I don’t know. I know legislation and litigation to outlaw progress never works as intended, and when it “works” at all the results are horrific destruction.

Would I like to be replaced by AI? No. And I think it would take some doing, since I’m… very me.

But if it were to happen, I guess I retire. And hide in a corner, with my AI bot subscription, ordering and mainlining the Heinlein novels Heinlein never wrote.

I’ll be all right….

This is not a viagra commercial. Merely the writer being ecstatic that she got the book through publication on Amazon, WITHOUT having to prove she’s really herself by drawing blood and sacrificing Hamsters.

This is the last of the re-issues of Darkship. From here on, it’s all new.

And barring major disaster (please no major disaster!) they’re coming.

DARKSHIP REVENGE

The World Can’t Be Made Safe….

But it doesn’t mean Athena Hera Sinistra isn’t ready to try. Flying back to Earth Orbit from her asteroid home, leaving behind unresolved questions and turmoil, Athena becomes a new mother in orbit.

As is perhaps fitting, her daughter is born during battle with an unknown foe.

A battle that ends with Kit – Athena’s husband – missing, and Athena’s ship damaged.

So Athena names her daughter Eris, and goes to war.

What follows is a non-stop fight by a very angry mother, who wishes to make the world(s) safe for her newborn daughter, and other children too.

When the adventure is over, it is just the start of another, where children will be rescued, old tyrants brought to justice, and freedom restored.

If it can be.

It’s lying about the paperback and hardcover, but it will come through shortly, probably.
Post in an hour or so. Writing it.

Book promo

If you wish to send us books for next week’s promo, please email to bookpimping at outlook dot com. If you feel a need to re-promo the same book do so no more than once every six months (unless you’re me or my relative. Deal.) One book per author per week. Amazon links only. Oh, yeah, by clicking through and buying (anything, actually) through one of the links below, you will at no cost to you be giving a portion of your purchase to support ATH through our associates number. A COMMISSION IS EARNED FROM EACH PURCHASE.*Note that I haven’t read most of these books (my reading is eclectic and “craving led”,) and apply the usual cautions to buying. – SAH

FROM ALMA T. C. BOYKIN: Lord Adrescu’s Blade: A Familiar Origins Tale.

A legendary sword, and the man who wielded it.

Lord Danut Adrescu returns to his keep to find a mystery and a warning. A battered young Healer who cannot speak, and a vision of battle with a half-bull monster. What links the two? And what ties them to his new sword, a battle-claimed blade made by the finest Italian swordsmiths?

FROM C. CHANCY: Tell No Tales

Some nights it just doesn’t pay to rise from the grave….Corbin wants to uncover the truth behind her death at a demon’s hands. But her memories have been shattered by the grave, and even with footloose Sighted mechanic Devon Fortunato helping her search for answers, a restless ghost is up against the darkest spells and lies of the living. If they can’t unravel who sabotaged the Cunning Folk circle’s spellcast defenses, the child Corbin meant to protect will suffer a fate worse than death. Corbin’s notes hold clues, but the broken circle would rather die than admit the truth….

FROM LAURA MONTGOMERY: Relief Afar: A Martha’s Sons Short Story.

Even on a lost colony world, secret enclaves have something to offer—but not when an insider sees a newcomer as the enemy.

Twenty-year-old Peter Dawe’s exile gets worse. Not only is he forbidden the lost colony’s city and his family’s freehold, but even his brother’s isolated farm no longer offers refuge. Of necessity, he heads north, away from humanity’s terraformed valley towards the hidden enclave where pioneers push back the forbidding flora and fauna of the planet’s native terrain. They call it Kentucky

Young volunteers from First Landing’s northern families work to terraform the plains beyond the mountains. They’ve known each other all their lives and spent the summer working together. Peter’s presence should be a welcome addition to the small group.

After what he did to protect his brother’s family, Peter has resolved not to fight again—at least not for a good long time. When another man seeks to test himself against Peter and Peter’s past violence, Peter faces a choice. Does he confront what he’s tried to leave behind, or does he show he understands the hard lessons life insists on teaching him?

Relief Afar offers another window into the lost colony world of Not What We Were Looking For. If you wonder what it’s like to build a new life on an unwelcoming planet, and if you want to see what lies in store next for this son of Martha, you’ll want to jump right into the newest tale.

Buy Relief Afar to transcend exile today!

FROM NATHAN C. BRINDLE: The Tale of the Crane Princess.

Ordinary, everyday shopkeeper Horiuchi Tsurue is running a little general store and mini-café on a small island in Japan’s inland sea, two centuries after mankind was nearly wiped out by a virus.

One day, Yamaguchi Yukiko, the kamaitachi of legend (The Cross-Time Kamaitachi), and her daughter Mikoko, appear in front of Tsurue’s shop, and she invites them in for tea.

That’s when Tsurue discovers she is anything but ordinary. And in the end, the island she is sworn to protect will depend upon it.

FROM WILLIAM STROOCK: The Aftermath of 1976

In a Different 1976
The sequel to The Great Nuclear War of 1975
The Salvation of 1976
As nuclear winter turns into spring, the Rockefeller Administration must rebuild America.
The task is enormous.
Every major American city and state capital has been blasted to radioactive rubble.
The nation’s infrastructure is smashed.
Tens of millions of Americans are displaced and homeless.
President Rockefeller runs the nation from the Western White House in Casper, Wyoming.
A rump congress convenes at the Greenbrier in West Virginia.
Somehow, the nation must hold a presidential election.
Politicians scramble to rebuild their parties and find viable candidates.
Overseas, America’s enemies take advantage of a world without superpowers. Can America fight a war abroad while clearing the nuclear rubble at home?
Meanwhile, a man walks across half a continent to reunite with his family.

FROM LEIGH KIMMEL: Lunar Surface Blues

The High Frontier is no place for foolishness, but nature can always make a better idiot.

Four years ago, Molly’s parents brought her up here to the Moon when their work brought them to Shepardsport. In the time since that move, she’s earned her place here and a seat on this field trip. Only one problem — she’s been given the worst possible EVA partner.

A pencil-necked dweeb with an attitude, Benji wants to be one of the guys. But his stunts keep putting them both in danger, and the adults keep blaming Molly.

When Benji gets in over his head, can Molly save him before it costs both their lives?

A short story of the Grissom timeline.

FROM CHRISTOPHER WOERNER: 202212 Scrapbook

This is a collection of the pamphlets I’ve put out through the month of December. The material is edited and I have added news headlines in-between each article. I am covering current events as the world gets worse every day, as well as analyzing our tyrants and the hope for resistance. I am also grouping the individual essays together by subject matter, at least as much as I can. There’s the virus, the perversions, the economy, our elite rulers, world events and just trying to work out how it all gets put together. It’s a mess, which is actually quite accurate in-and-of itself. Look and see.

Vignettes by Luke, Mary Catelli and ‘Nother Mike.

So what’s a vignette? You might know them as flash fiction, or even just sketches. We will provide a prompt each Sunday that you can use directly (including it in your work) or just as an inspiration. You, in turn, will write about 50 words (yes, we are going for short shorts! Not even a Drabble 100 words, just half that!). Then post it! For an additional challenge, you can aim to make it exactly 50 words, if you like.

We recommend that if you have an original vignette, you post that as a new reply. If you are commenting on someone’s vignette, then post that as a reply to the vignette. Comments — this is writing practice, so comments should be aimed at helping someone be a better writer, not at crushing them. And since these are likely to be drafts, don’t jump up and down too hard on typos and grammar.

If you have questions, feel free to ask.

Your writing prompt this week is: IMMINENT

First I want to make very clear I have no clue what the author’s political orientation is. I say this for HIS protection. Because there are people so crazy they’ll gang up on you if you are recommended by people whose politics they don’t like.

THIS GUY HAS NO ASSOCIATION WITH ME OR ANY OF US. HE DID NOT ASK FOR A RECOMMENDATION. HE DID NOTHING OTHER THAN WRITE GREAT BOOKS AND KEEP ME ENORMOUSLY ENTERTAINED EVEN THROUGH VERY DISRUPTIVE TIMES.

“But Sarah,” you said. “Why can’t you read the books we recommend? Or our books? Or? We’ll give them for free.”

Look, I read what I read. As with what I eat, it’s often not particularly good for me, and it’s “what catches me at the time.” Often even authors I love fail to catch me at a different time.

And I refuse to have my reading become homework, unless I’m researching for something.

Anyway, so let’s talk about this book that grabbed me. (Commission earned from the link below.)

Space Station Noir: Book 1

As the Galactic Empire crumbles, Station Noir is not a safe place for humans, it’s just the safest place left.

Gunny has done better than most on The Station. He commits enough crime to keep credits in his pocket, he’s not a slave anymore, and his alien partner has his back.

Then a simple job goes wrong, and Gunny is given an “opportunity” he can’t refuse. But it’s worse than it seems, and thrusts him into the deadly world of interstellar politics.

Now Gunny doesn’t know what to trust except his partner and the fact that humans always lose.

But losing this time might mean the end of Station Noir, death… or a return to slavery.

If you enjoy non-stop action, interstellar intrigue, and galactic crime you will love Gunny’’s thrilling adventures in Space Station Noir, the 1st book of Space Station Noir. Get your copy today!

So, come listen to the adventures of Gunny and Clive. Do you know it took me till book five to figure out what it was hitting off of?

Gunny is human and the stuff heroes are made of. Clive is one of the aliens who invaded us and destroyed the Earth, just not that faction.

The author might never have read Heinlein (I don’t know) but he Heinleins things amazingly and brilliantly. He never describes anything and we learn everything, step by step. He never describes the aliens except as a cockatiel who got drunk and got his freak on with an iguana. Some form of feathered dino, I assume.

So, anyway, this is what happened: I was looking at a book I was waiting to drop. And here we’ll take a moment and talk about Amazon again. First, they have my associates account back on probation, after three days without, and honestly? I still have no clue why. They’re saying I’m putting my code in a bunch of websites, which I obviously am not. The only people who had their code removed for this was Legal Insurrection that I know, and also completely unjustified, so you know, I smell political bullshit.

Anyway, on top of this, Amazon — and we really can’t do much about it. Everyone does business with Amazon for the same reason that everyone does business with Authority, though at the level they’re breaking things, it might maybe change in time — has made it much harder to find things. Particularly in book, your search might have absolutely nothing to do with what you were searching for.

Now this might be because they don’t discipline Chinese scammers who run around listing things in weird categories. But I’m certain sure I shouldn’t get t-shirts under kindle books. And then there’s the fact the sort by date or even by kindle unlimited doesn’t work any too well.

So I’ve resorted to finding a book I liked and then looking at the “We recommend” as a better way to find my next read. Problem is, you never know if they’re latching onto it for the reason I liked.

The reason I liked the last book was science fiction mystery, but then the recommends were all for “space opera with aliens” which is apparently what Amazon thinks that book is.

Space Station Noir came up in the recommends, and I thought just from the title on, it was utter schlock. Plus it had aliens, which are not my fave thing. So, I tried to swipe left. The d*mn kindle downloaded it, instead. (it is KU)

And then, promptly (our house acts like we have a slow rotating faraday cage around the outside, so periodically access goes away, inexplicably) I lost internet. I was in the uh…. what my grandfather called the Necessary, so I couldn’t just rush out for better reception in another room.

So I started reading it. And Lord, it grabbed me from page one.

It moves fast, it’s engaging, the characters are fun and interesting, the action is non-stop.

I got so mad — did I say I was rational? No — that I was reading it even though I hadn’t meant to download it, that as soon as I had access I tried to force myself to read something else. Only I couldn’t. And then I realized I was doing it out of spite, and that was stupid, and….

So, I’ve read all 5 books. Took me a very long time, because I’m trying to catch up on a hundred things, but–

Look, this is schlock. Maybe. What is the difference between schlock and really good writing?

It’s mostly action, really fast moving — didn’t grab Dan, not enough romance — but in the same way he never explains anything, he slides a lot of worthy moral and philosophical questions into the crazy action.

Sure, his titles are a crime against literature. A fistful of credits! Thing of beauty, ten out of ten, I approve.

And he has a lot of nods at pulp. But I approve of that too. And at this point that should be considered a basic of the culture.

So, if it is schlock, it’s the schlock I dream of writing, in my dreams of glory.

I’m just upset that having finished book 5, I don’t have book six waiting.

So, can you guys buy them and leave him raving reviews so he’ll write more quickly? If we can manage to let him quit his job so he can write more, it would be even better.

Please, I’m asking for a friend for me. Because I want to read more. And I’m hoping he doesn’t end them like Bonnie and Clide, because no. If he does that, we will have words. My words will be mostly AWWWWGH.

Anyway, buy the book. Read the book. If you’re using SF/F for romance this might not hit the spot, but for everything else, I stand by it.

It’s a gonzo cross of adventure and Space Opera, Noir Caper and interplanetary intrigue. It’s ice cream with chocolate topping. It’s being 13 again and reading just-one-more-page at three am.

I want more.

When I was a kid, and the family had a big party, I tended to end up in the kitchen, doing the cleanup.

Before you’re seeing some sort of Cinderella situation, don’t. The biggest problem I had is that at the time I had absolutely no idea that I was an introvert, see. I can fake extrovert — you’ve seen it at cons — but very large parties in crowded rooms drain me so fast you wouldn’t believe. I would run away to the kitchen.

My parents parties were usually a three ring circus which started with 50 invited people and somehow exploded to 150 or 200, by the bring-a-friend system. And the “they said we could drop by system.”

And I cannot — cannot — overemphasize how much my mom, who is a born extrovert finds excuses to have parties. It seemed that every other weekend there was a party for something: birthdays, anniversaries, sports club wins or a party because they hadn’t had a party in a while.

Thing is, culturally and for my family it was unacceptable for the teen daughter to go “AHHHHHH, People. I’ll be in my bunker.” If I tried to do that I’d be rude and anti social.

But if I put on an apron and went into the kitchen to start cleaning I was also alone save for the occasional person dropping by to look for something, but I was “such a nice girl” and “such a useful young lady” and “I wonder why she hasn’t bee snapped up.”

Between the whirling, LOUD gathering, and the “everything exploded over every surface” kitchen I’d take the kitchen every day and twice on Sunday, when the parties were bigger and louder.

Thing is, when I say “everything exploded over every surface” there are things you have to understand. I recently suggested to someone — coff — considering wedding expenses that if I’m given full run of a kitchen for a week or two (on the assumption I’m keeping up writing schedule at same time, btw) and a fridge or freezer to use at will, and $500 I can cater an hors d’oeuvres (things on sticks) reception for 50 to 100 people. (And we can probably get volunteer servers. COFF. Not that you know…. well, it’s just me.)

I know I can do this, because I’ve done it before. (Used to be $100, but you know.) And because I apprenticed at the knee of the best. Only mom, who is an excellent cook, didn’t go in for the hors d’oeuvres thing. That was the opening salvo. Also, I hate to tell you guys this, but when it comes to eating, we Americans are amateurs. At older son’s civil wedding, I looked at the very nice, perfectly wonderful arrangements and thought the equivalent crowd of Portuguese would tear through the available food in the first five minutes and then wander off to eat the countryside. (To be clear not a criticism of arrangements. I think they had leftovers. Because Americans.) I’d say Portuguese eat like writers, but that’s not even true. They eat like locusts. And mom’s parties usually had enough leftovers to feed us for a week (until the next party.)

And because she had a job, she usually only cooked for the party for like two or three days. And uh…. “Used every pot in the kitchen” and “She can’t be throwing bones and bits of vegetables in the sink in expectation of a disposal, because she never had any.”

In other words, mom cooks as I write. Throw things everywhere, trust the clean up after. (The sad thing being usually I am the one cleaning up the writing. Sniffle. Okay, except Sarah C. and Amy B. who are going to kill me for saying I clean it.)

I’m trying to paint a picture. I’d come into the kitchen, apron around my middle, and the first order of business was “Clear the sink so the dish washing can start.” And there the problem started. There were PILED UP, unstable, tottering towers of dishes, spoons, stirring implements, trays, pots, etc on every available surface, including the chairs. And in the middle of each of these piles would be the discards: Bones, fat, dough imperfectly scraped from bowls, bits of vegetables, eggshells, etc.

Which meant I usually started the festivities by making the mess worse. FAR FAR WORSE. Like “First, find a bucket to fill with stuff for the compost heap, and a bag for non-bio-degradable trash. Put them on the floor.” Now start removing the first layer of dishes and making other piles, on the floor. (Though if it was warm-ish or at least not freezing, I often moved them to the patio, just so I wouldn’t trip on things.)

I tried to get on with this phase as fast as humanly possible, lest a guest (or a brother!) came into the kitchen and screamed “you’re making it worse.” Or, you know, tripped on one of the jenga piles rising waist-high on the floor. If I could get through it quickly enough, by the time people came into the kitchen, the piles were orderly, mostly on the kitchen table, on towels, to dry. And if they came later, I was just putting things away in batches, and taking in new incoming piles from the dining room (Soup bowls, appetizer plates, two main course plates, etc.) onto already designated surfaces. This is when older ladies tried to get their sons (or grandsons) to propose to me. (“Such a nice girl. So orderly. So useful.” — not seeing me the rest of the time when I slouched around the house in my brother’s old pullover and my dad’s slippers with my nose in a book and my hair in a mess.)

But if they came in early enough they were usually shocked and horrified and went to ask my mom “Carmen, do you know what your daughter is up to?” Mom who was fluent in my cleaning methods, and by then quite used to them, might poke nose in and go “Not the vintage dishes on the floor. Put them on a chair. Move the pans to the floor” but that was about it. Most of the time, she’d come in, leave, close the door behind herself, and make jokes about leaving the cleaning crew to her work.

Now, why is this relevant?

Our culture, finance, government, entertainment, news reporting, etc. now are various aspects of the messiest kitchen you can possibly imagine.

Periodically, out of the blue, for who knows what reason — notice I wasn’t doing what I did out of a pure heart — someone who really could be doing other things volunteers and takes a giant hit to go and attempt to clean up a portion of it.

Trump, sure. Also Elon, also at a smaller level, a lot of other people here and there.

I was reading at what is going on at twitter in mild horror. (I really need to sign up to pay for a check mark, just–)

And it came to me that Trump faced this plus a million. AS WILL ANYONE ELSE STEPPING UP TO CLEAN UP.

The mess is so unbelievably large and organic, that to clean it up passes through “first make things even more messy.”

On top of which the left are like the worst kind of party goers. They congregate in the kitchen, screaming at anything you do, and trying — at the same time — to make the mess even worse, under the assumption that somehow, if they break everything, then automagically everything will be clean. Also, frankly, because they are unbelievably, bizarrely stupid and don’t realize what a mess it is, nor that there is a problem with it. For instance the celebrutards screaming for the end of fossil fuels really have no clue of the first order effects of such a thing, let alone second or third. They have the kind of finely trained stupidity that takes years and thousands of dollars to make people believe in, so that they could walk into mom’s kitchen as a party started and praise the “organic order” and talk about how as things decayed they would clean themselves.

So…. what do I mean?

1- Don’t look for the guy who comes in and clean everything. I could sort of do that in mom’s place, because it was one kitchen, and though the mess was ongoing, the party had an end. (Okay, often at one in the morning the next day.) This is several messes, and have been going on for 100 years, meaning that you can’t clean them in a day. Or a week. Or a month, or probably a few decades.

2- It’s often going to look worse once they start. Because first you have to get the the bottom of the piles and figure out what is making the jengaed (totally a verb) pile of 100 year old teacups shake if you breathe on them. (And what you find at the bottom is probably unbelievably gross and stupid.) Which means moving everything around. When the left screams about “chaotic staffing” or whatever, remember that first you have to move things around to figure out what’s causing the problem.

3 – Even after you start cleaning, messes will continue growing, because life doesn’t stop, and frankly the left likes the mess and to an extent thinks it’s normal operating procedure. You have to trust the crazy volunteers (even those getting paid) who jump into this, to just do the best they can, incrementally.

4- Don’t discard people because they don’t get it all under control immediately. It’s not going to happen. Just praise them, help them, and keep going.

5- We will do it. Eventually even the greatest mess, you turn the corner, and start cleaning faster than it can propagate. It just takes time and not falling into despair.

6- Despair will be a big temptation, because you’ll be tired, cranky and your hands wrinkled from dish soap, but it looks like you did nothing, and in fact the mess seems to keep growing. Or at least it’s more visible.
Keep your head down, keep DOING. It will get better, I promise. I don’t promise in my life time, because I’m early-old. But it will get better.

Be not afraid. Put on your apron and start scrubbing. Even if everything seems terrible, even if everything seems to be falling apart, choose your area and go to work. You can’t work on everything at once. No one can.

But just go to work, and trust others will join in, some (like Elon) much bigger than we are.

Keep cleaning. We’ll turn this corner.