Get Lucky


The other day, I found a web page called Partridge Gets Lucky. I laughed, but more at my own expense than Alan’s. The dorky guy dancing in an awkward manner is a familiar source of laughs because ha ha look at him attempting to enjoy himself, but no one seems to allow that sometimes, even we dorks are captivated enough by music to attempt to leave our safe, familiar corner, and that this, in fact, is admirable. Music moves people on a primal level and it doesn’t care about your social cachet; if it wants you to dance, you will  succumb.

30.09.2013 • Permalink

At one point during the meeting, Ballmer chose to play the song he used back at his first company meeting in 1983: Michael Jackson’s “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin'”. He then proceeded to jump and dance around the stage screaming at the top of his voice “the sound of Microsoft!” Steve Ballmer in his farewell speech

27.09.2013 • Permalink

Men, to the best of my knowledge, don’t even read,” Goldberg said. “When’s the last time you heard a man say, ‘I’ve been reading this great book, you’d really like it’? My girlfriend always tells me about these books she’s reading, and I don’t even see her reading the book! Where does this book live?

Bryan Goldberg, profiled by Lizzie Widdicombe for The New Yorker. Goldberg has made 200 million dollars, but hasn’t figured out where books live.

17.09.2013 • Permalink

Class diversity also needs to be part of #DiversityinSFF. I want fewer kings and starship captains, more coach drivers and space waitresses.

– Saladin Ahmed

It’s not that I’m not sympathetic to stories like these, but the simple truth is that if you want more stories about space waitresses, you should write them instead of waiting around.

16.09.2013 • Permalink


At first, the whole becoming-a-dad thing didn’t quite move beyond mere abstraction in my head. I mean, I knew objectively that things were in motion that would eventually result in a newborn infant to call our very own, but I hadn’t really wrapped my head around it. (Dr. Girlfriend didn’t even have a noticeable baby bump yet.)

Things change quickly, though. After all, if everything goes well, a pregnancy only lasts nine months, give or take.

So one fine morning, we headed to the hospital to have the ultrasound. I was going to meet dr. Girlfriend there, so of course I got stuck in traffic, making panicked phone calls of apology between sessions of inching the car slightly forwards.

Anyway. I made it on time. We both did. And after a quick introduction, the midwife lubed up dr. Girlfriend’s belly, grabbed the stylus-like thingie and set to work.

There it – she – was. A baby girl … a daughter. Healthy too, by the looks of it, all fingers and toes accounted for, bouncing around in there, sucking on her thumb (or possibly picking her nose). At one point, a face appeared, staring right at us and I could hear the Wiener Philharmoniker strike up Also Sprach Zarathustra in my head. It was … well, it was fucking amazing.

Ayway, in about five months, we’ll lay actual, analog eyes on her. I’m really excited. (Also somewhat terrified, but I've been led to understand that's a given.)

03.09.2013 • Permalink