from a Bodhisattva in Italy. an author light-years more cognizant than I on all things science fiction and paleontological (by 12,001 light years). We are also fellow freelance translators. I own a sizeable science fiction library, particularly pulp magazines that range from 1945 to circa 1970. Can’t really say because most of them are stacked in cartons. Here is a cover from one dated 1964. I am readying some for shipment to my nephew, who is now living in Berlin with his wife of 10 years.
Venerdì tredici. E non un venerdì tredici qualunque – il tredici di gennaio, il compleanno di Clark Ashton Smith. E io ricevo una mail da Amazon.
Niente di particolarmente sorprendente o preoccupante (è Amazon, non l’Agenzia delle Entrate) – da quando mi servo nel negozio online di Jeff Bezos, ricevo spesso delle mail, che fanno più o meno così…
Ciao, consumatore! Sulla base dei tuoi acquisti, pensiamo che potrebbe anche interessarti…
E a seguire, grazie alla potenza del meraviglioso algoritmo di Amazon, una lista che di solito include
un paio di libri dei quali non mi interessa assolutamente nulla
un paio di libri che ho già acquistato proprio da Amazon
un paio di libri che ho scritto io
un utensile da cucina dalle forme esotiche e la cui funzione mi è ignota
In tanti anni di acquisti su Amazon, credo di non aver MAI acquistato un libro o un altro…
Editor’s Note: A bug fried one of the vacuum tubes in the machinery here, preventing publication of BillZiegler1947 from being delivered to all readers of WordPress Reader for some indeterminate number of time. Years perhaps, for some of you. Editorial Staff assistant, Bartleby, the Scrivener, has assisted dutifully. But this was not his preference.
Belatedly yours, Bill
Taking up where I left off…
Katja Herbers is a fellow Climate Emergency activist who uses her fame to rail against a very few criminals who must be charged at the World Court. At the earliest — immediately. Reason enough to join Twitter, a place where I also express deeply-held beliefs that are also enormously controversial (@billziegler1947). I draw a thick line in the sands of Palestine. This invisible line is visible when “filtered” thus:
Fossil-fuel behemoths are attempting Planetcide; there is no room on the table for minced mush and fact finagling in this matter. These are the guys with the smoking gun that never stops billowing the scent of gunpowder, the whiff of gasoline.
There are courtrooms large enough to contain each CEO. We need to see the kind of action that recently concluded in the January 6 hearings — at the very least. Those hearings resulted in some amazing rulings, but the ringleader is still at large in Florida, cowering and fuming in his ever mad state of mind. The 45th President’s deluded rantings were already pointing to another four years slashed from the already desperately-short time available when he swept himself down the escalator to the cheers of an adoring throng who had been paid $50 a head for the privilege of standing there with their useful vacant minds.
His fetid droppings have turned to an ash that now settles slowly in the waste bins of history, from this point forward, from this glance backward. But the four years are marked with a grubby label: “No returns accepted.”
Now is the time to convict all the fossil-fuel scoundrels who remain at the scene.
Perhaps Putin — who seems to be in a Mar-a-Lago of his own choosing at the moment— may wish to seek asylum in Palm Springs. The two deserve each other, they could share war stories. Vladimir could fondle his pet and coo his concern.
If you have access to Paramount Plus, I highly recommend that you consider viewing the first three seasons of Evil —Season 4 is presently in production. A plug for a fellow traveler of Planet A who is screaming with the rest of us.
Full disclosure: Not for the squeamish. But climate catastrophe is presently rated a wholesome G: for all audiences. So make your own choices, but do not make them frivolously.
This is not the time to shrug, to dismiss climate “change” as one of those things we cannot alter. As if it would then disappear in the very act of wishing. “I want you to begone, and that will make it so?” Let’s say it’s another day in a Poor Richarde’s Almanac sort of way. Trivialize reality and see if it doesn’t trivialize you first.
And never let your attention be diverted by sleight-of-hand confidence artists who write in public-service-announcement guise. It’s still propaganda. Yes, Chevron, we know that you do not want a clean environment too.
Last Friday, as the Arctic Cyclone gave us one more reminder that climate change is always banally ignored, knowing that its presence has already been cold fact for some long time now.
Yesterday, I expressed the hope that this untoward air mass from Siberia might just be a harbinger of hope, that it might stir some Republican mind-fogged-space-fillers into an awakened state. No. Woke is for what they call “The Democrat Party”, the tree-huggers, the environmental wackos, the party-spoilers, hippies of the 1960s and 1970s, the ones who buried a car one day in April. The cruelest month.