Miscellany

"Witchcraft ban ends in Zimbabwe":

Zimbabwe has lifted a ban on the practice of witchcraft, repealing legislation dating back to colonial rule.

From July the government acknowledges that supernatural powers exist – but prohibits the use of magic to cause someone harm.

In 1899, colonial settlers made it a crime to accuse someone of being a witch or wizard – wary of the witch hunts in Europe a few centuries earlier which saw many people burned at the stake after such accusations.

But to most Zimbabweans, especially those who grew up in the rural areas, it has been absurd to say that the supernatural does not exist.

In fact, it is not hard to find vivid stories about the use of magic.

Alfred, for example, believes that he was bewitched at work some years ago, making him partly bald.

Now THAT, friends, is a great sentence. (Via Judith Berman.)

Spotted two so far:

Locus Online with the usual run of gags (a little disappointing this year, for me anyway)
Kingdom of Loathing (just go there — read through the titles)

Updated: Teresa Nielsen Hayden at Making Light points out several more

AND: Ed Champion is cracking me up.

My Edna St. Vincent Millay is missing.

Inspired by Justine (though I’m too lazy to link to the pages here these actually led to), random search strings that led people here in the last 24 hours:

El Monte Calle
What year is Matt Czuchry
Silly Games
curtis sittenfeld "the man of my dreams"
joan d. vinge
CENSORED
paparrazi of milo and alexis
"Dave Schwartz" + weather
weevil + veronica + music videos
Logan and Veronica wallpaper
Dan Chiasson and Justin Tussing
Firebirds Rising
real life novel princess
teapots Austen
mud pies in Haiti

(Who are Milo and Alexis? Oh and welcome, Veronica Mars fans/Gilmore Girls fans/Old Man Sittenfeld…)

g1. Dana’s collected some choice anti-Valentines from her friends over at #1HS. Her own is about a particularly noxious college neighbor:

My neighbor in college–a girl from the bayous named (I shit you not) Katrina–would appear on my doorstep daily, Schneider-like, to bend my ear, always with terrible news. Sometimes it was because she had rescued half-dead cats. Sometimes it was because the half-dead cats had peed on her bed.

2. The fabulous Hank Stuever has a piece about Lloyd Dobler:

Heaps of devotional words have been written about Lloyd Dobler. The early stages of a popularized Internet seemed to exist for people to make Lloyd Dobler references, and Lloyd Dobler tribute pages that linger ("Last updated on July 1, 1997"). There’s a fairly successful Wheaton-based band called the Lloyd Dobler Effect, which has toured forever. (Sadly, a Hootie and the Blowfish comparison in a review of the Lloyd Dobler Effect’s work prevents us from going any further.)

Best cycling photo ever.

Awhile back, Dolly Parton started a charity called the Imagination Library, which mails a book a month to all children from birth to 5 years of age in Sevier County, TN, regardless of income. The program is spreading. Dolly sez:

"They call me the Book Lady. That’s what the little kids say when they get their books in the mail. They think I bring them and put them in the mailbox myself, like Peter Rabbit or something," she said, laughing.

Where she grew up in tiny Locust Ridge, children’s books and education were luxuries. "My mother was married when she was in the seventh grade, so a lot of my people didn’t get a chance to get an education," she said. "Imagination Library was really born out of my need to try to help people knowing what a handicap it was with a lot of my relatives."

Little things, not quite hangovers.

• I’m sure you’ve seen this elsewhere, but here’s John Joseph Adams’ instructions for more formally expressing your feelings about the end of Sci Fiction: Everyone who is dismayed over the death of SCI FICTION, email SCIFI.com at feedback@scifi.com and tell them of your displeasure. Also, if you want to write a long, detailed, and eloquent letter that you’d like the community to see, send a note to Science Fiction Weekly too, at scifiweekly@scifi.com, and maybe they’ll publish it in their letters column.
• Speaking of which, this probably isn’t a bad time to support other short fiction outlets in the genre that are consistently excellent, such as Strange Horizons, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, Asimov’s, Realms of Fantasy, Black Static (formerly The Third Alternative), insert your own here, etc., etc. Or how about newcomers the Fairy Tale Review or Fantasy magazine (which little birdies say includes lots of X chromosomes on the TOC)? One of the things that has always made the genre feel unique to me is the value that’s still placed on short fiction; let’s keep it that way.
• The windshield wipers decided to up and die on the way home from work today, leading to waiting for C to come follow me home, a fifteen minute interlude that led to utter exhaustion. And our heat is currently blinking in and out (don’t worry, guesties, it’ll be fixed by the time you get here) at the exact same time it’s finally getting autumn cold. And I have to write anyway. Whine. That is all.

Tod Goldberg reveals: Dean Koontz = Batshit Crazy:

He then went on to read us the letters he’d sent to the Japanese chairman of the film company in question where he asked repeatedly to have his name removed from the film. The letters were about, generally, the US kicking Japanese ass in World War II, the inability of the Japanese to defend themselves against Godzilla, some more fascinating invective about the US defeating the Japanese, a touching bit about Pearl Harbor, another about the Bataan Death March, a touch more about the Japanese surrender and then, of course, a bit about Mothra, too. Each letter was addressed to "Mr. Teriyaki." (Internment camps were not mentioned in any of the letters, which I assume was a simple omission on Mr. Koontz’s part and will be rectified in the future.)

Stunningly, the audience thrilled to the stories! The laughter cascaded about the room! People dabbed tears! Do you have any stories about your hatred of the Jews, Mr. Koontz? Any good ones about the Muslim world? How about a notation on some more racial stereotypes you’ve used when negotiating your name off other shitty movies?

Read the whole thing. Some of you have heard me rant about Dean Koontz’s dog Trixie being forced to write books (and apparently make New Year’s resolutions) in the past. Free Trixie! Whatever you do, don’t tell him she’s a Japanese spy!

*This will only make sense to you if you happened to be at the ICFA banquet of 2000-aught2. Suffice to say, some of us have witnessed similiarly baffling speechery.

Updated: I missed Lee Goldberg’s post on same, which features an account of an exchange with Dean Koontz after reading his post. I particularly love the concessions he made:

I got a call today from Dean Koontz, who wasn’t pleased about the comments here. I apologized to him for using "Sambo" and "Kike" as comparisons for his use of "Mr. Teriyaki" to refer to the Asian exec. He found the use of those words pejorative and said they mischaracterized the tenor of his speech. I agreed. So I  have changed them to "Mr. Fried Chicken" and "Mr. Matzoball." I believe his speech was offensive and in bad taste — and I reiterated that belief to him in our phone conversation.

Updated: The LA Times covers the speech and resulting dust-up and Tod Goldberg reacts, once again in hilarious fashion.

Steve Martin has been awarded the eighth annual Mark Twain Prize for American Humor. The ceremony sounds fun:

Dave Barry, who wrote jokes for Martin’s Oscar-hosting gig two years ago, mentioned that he performed his Academy Awards monologue with his fly open. "And," said Barry, " I think it says something about Steve as a performer, and as a man, that no one noticed."

The most off-message message of the evening came from Larry David, who told a hilarious shaggy-dog tale in which Martin mistreats a homeless guy, plagiarizes a Dorothy Parker story, abuses a cat, acts boorish in a theater and finally insults David’s Jewish heritage. "Maybe next time you’ll give this award to someone who deserves it," said David. "Someone whose personal conduct is beyond reproach. Someone like . . . uh, you’ll figure it out."