Sci-fi author Neal Stephenson (Enowning > a Slashdot interview): [A] while back, I went to a writers’ conference. I was making chitchat with another writer, a critically acclaimed literary novelist who taught at a university. She had never heard of me. After we’d exchanged a bit of of small talk, she asked me “And where…
Picked up the two-month-old Beast of Bages this afternoon from a farm where she was in imminent danger of being eaten by hunting dogs. She’s still too shy for photos, but has already assaulted one of the neighbours and climbed all over the bookcases, so here (MP3, 4.93MB), by way of welcome, is a snipped…
So it’s just going to be the once on Peel. That was a strange summer, when the customary laziness was suddenly interrupted by unfamiliar terms like “airplay” and “contract”. Then the singer got eight years for stammering during an armed robbery and the guy in the suit ran off with the money. Or something –…
A fascist left site stole an excerpt from a translation of Michael Moore’s Stupid White Men and posted it approvingly next to what they think is the authentic cover. Check it out. (Tim Blair > Barcepundit, neither of whom seems to be the agent provocateur webmaster of Nodo50.)
The raven didn’t hear me coming, so it broke away from the cliff at the last moment, struggled to remain airborne, and then climbed with a clumsy whooshing of wings out of the shadows and above the ridge, where it found the thermal, flexed its wing-fingers, and hung motionless for an age, the sun glinting…
Ik had me wel ‘s afgevraagd waarom Sinterklaas gedichtjes niet hoefden te rijmen, tenminste niet op de ons bekende wijze. Antwoord heb ik gevonden in een heel geinig rijmpje van Andries Pels (1631-1681): Men bindt ons échter niet aan zulke naauwe wétten,Dat juist in `t rijm op élk een’ létter sta te létten;O neen; wanneer…
So Richard Cœur-de-Lion owed his name to bravery in battle? Hmmm, because Robert Chambers‘ 1869 Book of Days, pillaging a medieval romance, tells a different tale. As we join proceedings, Richard is languishing in the nick (again! but it’s German this time) for having beaten up a pub musician, killed the son of the king…
Sad and strange: Helmut Simon, the guy who, with his wife, found Ötzi, the prehistoric iceman, has disappeared while walking at somewhere in the region of 2,400m. Rescue teams have given up hope of finding him alive, and Margaret Marks tells me visitors to Der Standard are already speculating (now I scroll down, I can…