Samuel Conway

Now it is official

unclekage — Sun, 17 Nov 2013 17:15:29 GMT

A new job, a new home, a new life

unclekage — Tue, 05 Nov 2013 01:06:32 GMT

It's true. I am no longer a resident of Pennsylvania. I am living now in the great state of North Carolina. The move came immediately after Anthrocon 2013. Essentially, I returned to Philadelphia to drop off the equipment that is stored there, then made a right turn and headed south.

It was quite a change for me, and not an easy one. I had been living in the Philadelphia area for about 18 years, not far from where I grew up; most of my dearest friends were there, I owned a lovely condominium of which I was quite fond, I had municipal responsibilities and multiple volunteer positions. Sadly, though, I was not very happy with my job. The details of that are not for discussion here (though at a bar, over a drink that someone else pays for, is a different matter); we'll just say that it was time for me to look for greener pastures. The trouble is that there are no greener pastures for a Ph.D. scientist in Southeastern Pennsylvania. Many large pharmaceutical companies that were located there had closed up shop in recent years, and they have dumped hundreds, perhaps thousands of degreed chemists onto the streets. Fellows like me quickly became a dime-a-dozen, and it wasn't long before employers figured that out and started to treat us so. Indeed, it was time to expand my job search beyond the back yard.

Research Triangle beckoned. I suppose it's where all scientists wind up eventually. I got a call in March from a rather well-established group outside of Raleigh who were looking for a brilliant chemist with just the right mix of organic and analytical chemistry under his belt. I told them that I didn't know anyone like that but I could probably fill in for him until he showed up. They had me down for an interview in April, and then again in May. The offer that followed was surprisingly generous, enough to overcome my reluctance to pull up the roots that I'd spent so much time cultivating, although not rising to the level of "The Myth" that I believed so earnestly in when I was a student.

So here I am, sitting in a nice little condominium which despite being cozy and having a beautiful view of a lake, still doesn't quite feel like "home," and I'm not sure if it ever will. Life goes on, however, so I simply have to make the best of it.

A lot of people have asked me a lot of questions, and since I've been repeating the same answers over and over, I figured I might as well put something of a FAQ list here in my too-long-neglected LiveJournal.

Is Anthrocon moving to North Carolina?

Hell, no. Pittsburgh is our home and we have no intention of going anywhere else. We also remain incorporated in Pennsylvania, and we have a physical address there, even though I am still handling administrative matters and opening all the mail down here.

Are you still going to be the chairman of Anthrocon?

As long as the Board of Directors can tolerate me. I ran the convention from 300 miles away. Now I'll just have to run it from 500 miles away. One of the changes we made was to transfer as much equipment as possible to Pittsburgh (and we are purchasing more to make up for what we borrowed from Philcon) so there won't be any need to rent a gigantic truck for the Grand Trek to the con.

Why did you wait so long before telling anyone that you were moving?

I wanted to wait until after the convention when I could explain everything at my leisure (as the length of this journal attests). As you can imagine, preparations for Anthrocon, and its administration onsite eat up a lot of my energy, and brainpower, and the last thing that I needed was to have to answer a bunch of questions, such as the one that follows.

So are you going to be starting a new convention in North Carolina?

No. Hell, no. F***, no. Being in charge of one convention is more than enough for me, thank you very much. If someone else wants to start a convention down here, I am more than happy to offer advice, and to help out in any way that does not require me to get out of my chair.

How do you like North Carolina?

I find it agreeable. Some of the politics are not to my taste, but I do not let that distract me. The little town where I live is very nice and I am enjoying living here, with the possible exception of the drivers.

Are there lots of Furries down there?

A very large number, in fact, more than I found in the Philly area. They have regular picnics and furmeets that can attract upwards of 80 people at a time. They're good folk, too -- but then, they're Furries. That's how we are.

Do you miss Pennsylvania?

Deeply. But as I said, one must make the best of it.

Do your parents still live in Philadelphia?

They do. I'm working on that, bit by bit.

Can I come visit you?

You should know that I am very fond of spiders, and encourage them to take up residence in my home. Maybe it's better if we meet for coffee someplace!

Are you doing any emergency management work down in North Carolina?

No. They've got a pretty well-established emergency management system down here already, and quite frankly, it was starting to really wear me down having so much responsibility for so many different organizations. I'm taking a break from the emergency business, at least for now.

Do you still like the same kind of wine?

Yes. German riesling, Mosel Valley, or Washington State riesling, Columbia Valley, neither any older than 3 years.

Who do you work for?

That would be telling.

Why I hated World War Z

unclekage — Tue, 25 Jun 2013 15:35:50 GMT

The movie, not the book. I loved the book. I almost walked out of the movie, and would have if I had not sunk $11 into it.

Spoilers ahead. But what does it matter? You shouldn't go to see this stinking pile of shit.

The film opens on Brad Pitt, a happy stay-at-home husband and father of two little girls, ContrivedPlotDevice and ScreechingLittleWuss. They are oh, so happy, especially now that Brad has left his former job, which apparently was really upsetting to his family.

Now they are in Philadelphia, which looks like Philadelphia but which has New York-style wall-to-wall traffic on Market Street. OK, we'll let that one go for now. They are in the car, and right away some commotion starts up ahead. Then an explosion. Brad gets out of the car and a cop pulls up and immediately gets run over by a garbage truck so powerful that it can plow through six solid blocks of stopped traffic and fling the cars left and right without slowing down. The driver seems to be having some sort of seizure, all flailing about and snarling.

Brad, Wife and the girls get out of the gridlocked car, while all around them is carnage. People screaming and running, and apparently attacking one another. Brad sees a cabbie get assaulted and bitten. It seems like a good idea to Brad to stand there counting. When he gets to 12, the cabbie is up and snarling and biting people. Ah...so I guess Brad knew all about the zombie invasion and that this cabbie was going to turn? No, he knows nothing of it. He just likes to start counting when he sees someone die, just in case.

So the family sees an RV with the door open and the keys conveniently inside which has been freed from traffic by the rampaging garbage truck. Zombies attack as soon as they get in, hurling themselves at the windows and trying to break in, which was kind of cool. Somehow all of the traffic opens up and within a few minutes the family is safely driving on a remote country road which Brad identifies as "95." It's here that Brad gets a call from his old friend the Secretary General of the UN (or something) who looks and talks just like Kofi Annan.

Oh, horror! ContrivedPlotDevice is having a serious asthma attack and nobody knows where her inhaler is. We need a new one! Let's drive to Newark, right into the middle of the city, to find one! That's the only place! So there is no traffic at all getting into Newark, which could only be possible during the Apocalypse, and they go to a big pharmacy that is being ravaged by looters. We are treated to ScreechingLittleWuss wailing and screaming like Carol Anne and whining, "Daddy, I'm scared!" every sixty seconds while the medicine is procured, and when they get outside -- oh, damn, the RV is gone! Maybe we should have locked it and taken the keys. After all, that's how we got it, right?

We are in danger! Quick, there's an apartment building with lights on! So Mom grabs a bunch of flares from the RV (apparently, because she magically has them a few moments later), and they go into the apartment building, which now has no lights on, just flickering emergency lights like a scene from Doom. They can hear the zombies snarling in the darkness. Rather than finding a nice hotel that has lights, they continue until ScreechingLittleWuss wanders off alone into the darkness. Oh, but clever girl has found a nice Hispanic family who is standing wide-eyed in their open doorway. They invite the Brad Family inside.

Brad calls Kofi Annan and asks for evac, and we find out that Brad is actually a highly-trained UN military operative (I didn't know they had those, but OK). He wants Kofi's help, but no, I'm NOT going to work for you again. Nope.

So in the morning a helicopter comes, and the family must make their way through zombie-infested stairwells to the roof, since apparently the windows do not open in this apartment building. Hispanic Family opts to remain behind, but oh, they get eaten off-camera, and their little boy runs up to join the Brad Family. He's now a member of the Brad Family, and has no speaking lines and is barely acknowledged throughout the rest of the film.

The one, single thing in the film I liked: Brad fights a zombie and its blood splashes into his mouth. When he gets to the roof he orders his family back and then stands at the very edge of the roof. He starts counting. Reaches 12, realizes he won't turn, and shakily steps back from the edge of the roof. I liked that. So now we know that the zombie virus is not orally transmissible...even though it is carried in the mouth of the zombie. OK, let's just put that out of our minds.

So now we fly 200 miles offshore to a huge aircraft carrier battle group, which is UN Mobile Command. We find that the whole world is infected and governments are collapsing, the President is dead (eaten by the Joint Chiefs, I thought I heard them say). Brad is taken to Commander StickInTheAss, who immediately deduces that Brad is the only man who can fight the Zombie holocaust because, you know, Brad is from Philly, or worked for the UN or something.

Brad: "No, I'm not going back to work for you."

Kofi Annan: "But Brad, you are the only man who can save the world from this horror. Millions of people will die if you do not."

Brad: "No. I don't like you."

Commander StickInTheAss: "We'll throw your family off of this ship and send them back to Philly."

Brad: "When do I start?"

That's our Brad. Fuck millions of people and the possible salvation of all Mankind, but when it comes to my tiresome little girls and whiny, self-absorbed wife? Yeah, let's go!

So Brad gives Wife a cel phone. It's a magic cel phone that never needs recharging and can get coverage anywhere on the planet with no roaming charges (maybe it's a special UN satellite phone. OK). He promises to call her every day.

Where to? Korea. The first communication received by the US came from a military base in Korea. Brad is to go there and escort a Famous Scientist there, because if they can find the source, if they can find Patient Zero, then they can fix everything. See, that's how epidemiology works. As soon as you find Patient Zero, you can cure the disease. It's like killing the Original Vampire. You follow me?

So they take off and fly nonstop, without refueling, in a military cargo plane from 200 miles off the coast of the USA to Korea. Maybe our planes can do that, and the pilot did say that they were "on fumes" when they came in to the approach. The runway lights are still glowing, but go out as soon as the plane stops.

Brad, Famous Scientist and four redshirts carefully emerge down the plane's tail ramp. Apparently there is no possible way that danger can come from the front of the plane, behind them, because the redshirts never turn around once. Oh, no! Zombies rush out of the darkness! The redshirts are torn apart, and Famous Scientist panics and runs up the ramp and slips and accidentally shoots himself in the head. Really. So now he's dead. It's just Brad and the pilot and oh, look -- here come some soldiers who are hiding in a bunker in the base to kill the zombies. Nice timing, guys.

So now we're in the bunker. Captain Smirk explains that the zombies are attracted by sound and that headshots take them down. He shows them Patient Zero: a burned-out skeleton in a room surrounded by five other charred skeletons. Brad says, "Where's the doctor who found the patient?" and Captain Smirk points to a nearly cremated body, all except for one finger...which is twitching! AIIEEEE!

Wait. Headshots work, so once you kill the brain the zombie dies. But there's nothing left of the head and no flesh attaching this finger. Why is it moving? Is this one of those brain-eating zombies from that knockoff movie? No time to explain! We must keep moving! Brad is determined to see this through to the end, even though he's not a scientist and has no idea what he's doing or what he's looking for, only that he must find Patient Zero. Captain Smirk tells him, "Then you need to go to Israel."

Why Israel? The Israelis intercepted a communication from India that mentioned the word "rakshasah," which in this movie (and nowhere else) clearly means "Romero-styled zombie." So the Israelis instantly knew that the Zombie Apocalypse was upon us, and they built a giant 100-foot-high wall around Jerusalem using super quick-setting concrete because they apparently built this thing in the matter of a week and the Palestinians were somehow cool with Jerusalem being completely walled off and didn't put up a fuss.

We must go to Israel, Brad says! "Not us," says Captain Smirk. "We'll just stay here because, you know, this place isn't so bad." So Brad and some more redshirts get onto bikes, because bikes are quiet, and they ride out to the plane. Quiet, everyone. Quiet! Zombies are attracted by noise. Be quiet now.

RING!!! RING!!! Brad hasn't called his wife in the last 15 minutes so she's worried, so she decides to call him. Highly-trained UN military operative doesn't know enough to tell his wife, "DO NOT call me in the field," nor has he figured out how to put the magic UN phone on vibrate. The zombies go nuts and kill everyone except for Brad, the pilot and Captain Smirk. Captain Smirk gets bitten so he takes the honorable way out. BANG.

So Brad flies to Jerusalem. He asks StereotypicalIsraeliMilitaryGuy why they would wall off the city just because someone in India said the word "zombie" (actually "rakshasah") on the radio. S.I.M.G. then launches into this dissertation about if nine men say yes, then man #10 must also say yes, and he is man #10, and the audience is saying, "Wait...what?" I turned and looked at a lady who was sitting two seats away and she just gave me a big shrug and shook her head and went back to her knitting. Yes, she had taken out her knitting and was quietly making a sweater while the movie was going on.

OK, Jerusalem is surrounded by a massive wall with fortified habitrail-tunnels leading into it (all thrown up in a week with the blessing of the Arab world even before anyone else knew that the raksha...er, the zombies were coming). They are letting in everybody, checking their eyes first because the first thing that happens when you turn is that your eyes go all gluey. They are even letting in Palestinians. Everyone is cool with this. Then the Palestinians decide that they want to hold an outdoor concert. A girl grabs a microphone and they start singing and wailing and carrying on.

Sound? Oh, no! Sound! Sound attracts them! The roar of helicopters and the din of a million terrified people isn't enough to wake up the zombies outside, but a concert? These zombies are music lovers. They just want to get down and boogie! They rush the wall and start piling up in a writhing tower like ants (which was also kind of a cool concept). They get over the wall and start pouring into the city, and now Jerusalem is breached and there is nowhere to run. EEK!

S.I.M.G. has somehow gotten the idea that Brad is important because he orders two soldiers to risk their lives to get him to the airfield. There's a lengthy retreat through the zombie hordes; one soldier gets bitten and Brad hacks off her arm, but that's ok because she'll be fine in ten minutes once she spontaneously gets over the shock. Brad sees two curious things: (1) an old man in his pajamas, standing in the midst of the zombie horde, being completely ignored by them. (2) a very skinny kid who is likewise being bypassed by the zombies. How odd, the audience thinks. This must be important since the camera is lingering on them for so long.

Oh no! The military jet takes off without Brad! Its pilot is the only person in Israel who is not a complete fucking moron. Aha! Here's a commercial jetliner on taxi for takeoff. Brad and the soldiers rush the aircraft and flag it down. The pilot generously stops and lets in these gun-toting wild-eyed people even while the fight rages around them, because you know, there's no real hurry.

They take off, leaving behind a scene of horror as zombies overrun the people who had also tried to flag down the jet but were ignored, probably because they didn't have guns and were not Brad Pitt.

Now we're on the plane. Everything seems safe. Brad can't help thinking of lingering shots #1 and #2, and he has a revelation! He goes to the cockpit and bangs on the door, and since the events of September 11th have long been forgotten the pilot happily lets him in. Brad gives the pilot the phone and says, "Here, I just dialed Kofi Annan. He's going to tell you to fly to England where there's a World Health Organization facility."

The pilot comes back and says, "Your phone is dead." Thinking quickly, Brad shoots it in the head to keep it from turning! No, not really. The phone's battery has at last run out. But the pilot still got the order from a fellow who claimed to be the Secretary General of the United Nations, so he says, "Why not?"

Holy shit! A zombie was hiding in the galley elevator of the plane! A flight attendant accidentally lets it in, and the whole aircraft is soon snarling and gnashing. Only Brad and Sgt. One-Arm of the Israeli Army (who is perfectly fine after downing half a fifth of vodka to numb the pain) are alive. Brad grabs one of Sgt. One-Arm's grenades, pulls the pin, throws it, and blows a hole in the side of the aircraft, which despite being maintaind by Air Ickystan manages to stay together and doesn't break up from the massive gaping hole in its fuselage. All of the zombies are sucked out and sprinkled across the English countryside to spread the infection further, but Brad's not concerned about that.

The plane crashes, and only Brad and Sgt. One-Arm survive (very resilient, these two). Brad has been impaled through the gut by a massive chunk of metal at last six inches across, but don't worry. He'll be just fine in a few days, and even impaled like that he's able to walk untold miles across the zombie-sprinkled English countryside to reach the WHO headquarters, where he promptly passes out.

He wakes up and sees the Welshiest Welshman on the planet, who tells him, "You've been out for three days. Now who the hell are you, Strange Man That We Don't Trust But Whom We Brought In And Patched Up And Kept Tied Up Anyway For Three Days And There's No Catheter Or Bedpan In Sight And Now You're Perfectly Well?" Brad defiantly has them call Kofi Annan back on his phone.

His phone...which was clearly dead...

...and now it isn't...

...ZOMBIE PHONE!!! AIIEEEEE!!!!

No, really. The Magic UN Phone now works fine. Maybe the WHO happens to carry the right charger for Magic UN Phones.

Brad tells the WHO doctors his revelation. The people he saw? He believes that they were sick. The virus wants strong, healthy hosts, and zombies will bypass anyone who is sick who isn't going to be a good host. It's a decent theory. Apparently having a six-inch chunk of metal speared through your gut or having your arm lopped off doesn't make you weak enough for the virus. No, it can't detect endorphins or pain or stress hormones in its victim, but it can smell a stuffy nose from a mile away. Nope, don't want that one.

Brad wants the WHO to give him a horrible disease, something ghastly and fatal -- but curable, so he'll survive it. "Oh, you want the stuff we store in B-wing," they tell him. "It's crawling with zombies. But it's ok. We'll just be very quiet and we'll wrap our forearms in magazines and duct-tape them."

Now, that was actually pretty clever. Use a rolled-up magazine as bite armor for your forearm. But they must not have a lot of magazines at the WHO, because everyone just protected one forearm. I would have torn open the recycling cabinet and wrapped my whole body. But anyway.

Knowing that zombies are attracted by zound, Brad (who suffered no internal damage or infection from the jagged piece of metal), Sgt. One-Arm (who is just fine and in peak fighting condition) and one of the WHO doctors who knows where the cabinet is all go stumbling about, kicking every single discarded soda can and stepping on every last piece of broken glass and crashing into every open filing cabinet that they can, until Brad gets separated from the duo and somehow manages to find himself right in the exact laboratory that WHO Doctor said Brad would never possibly find without his help. He goes into the cold room where all the germs are kept, and grabbing a bin, starts pulling all of them out of their desktop storage cabinets and throwing them into the bin. It never occurs to him simply to pick up the 15-pound cabinet and carry it with him. He'd rather throw these fragile glass vials into a bucket where none of them could possibly break and release their deadly contents.

GASP! A zombie scientist is now right outside, snarling and gnashing and being scary. Brad cannot get out. So he randomly picks a vial from the bin, finds a syringe which for some reason is stored in the cold room with the germs, and injects himself.

A short time later (it couldn't have been very long because it is freezing cold in that room and Brad hasn't turned the slightest shade of blue and isn't even shivering), Brad decides that the germ has had enough time to work its magic on him. He opens the door. Zombie Scientist rushes in, sniffs at him, says, "Aw, fuck," and just goes gnashing somewhere else.

Brad has saved the day! Luckily he remembers which vial he stuck himself with, so the WHO doctors conveniently administer an antidote (or something -- they stick him and it's not clear what with) that they happen to store in the office wing, since the lab wing where the germs are kept wouldn't make sense, right? Or maybe it was more of the same germ to give him a boost. Who the fuck knows? By this point I was looking at my watch every 30 seconds saying, "Is this turkey done yet?"

Now word flashes across the world! We hear in broken radio reports mention of "meningitis" and "HIV." That is apparently the plan. Infect soldiers with horrible diseases like meningitis (or, God forbid, HIV) and then the zombies won't pay attention to them. Despite having meningitis or dengue fever or SARS, these soldiers will not feel sick. They'll feel just spiffy and can happily go out and slaughter zombies and will be back in time for tea and maybe a shot of antibiotics before any of those nasty symptoms show up.

I read a book called World War Z by the brilliant Max (son of Mel) Brooks. I refuse to believe that he let them put the title to this turd of a movie. I think that they've gotten him locked in a room somewhere and refused to give him food or water until he signed over the rights. Nowhere in this flimsy film did we see the tragic retreat to the Arctic, the horrifying Redeker Plan, the nightmare of a downed flyer being guided along a zombie- and car-choked bridge by a mysterious woman's voice on the radio. All we saw was Brad Pitt leaping bravely over gaping plot-holes while inexplicably clinging to an annoyingly useless family that I personally would have set on fire in the first ten minutes of the film, until he single-handedly saves all of Mankind by giving them AIDS.

I want my $11 back. And my 2 hours. And the popcorn was stale, even.

Fuck.

On the Passing of a Dog

unclekage — Wed, 22 May 2013 21:27:56 GMT

I hate poetry. Really, most of it is bad. Especially mine. That's why I don't indulge in it.

But quite a number of years ago a friend of mine lost his dog. It was yet another joke pulled on us by that cruel creator who thought that it was funny to invent the unique and indescribable bond between Man and Dog, and then to give the dog just fifteen years or so. I felt my friend's pain, having gone through it myself in my teenage years when I lost the companion that I had been with me since birth and whose company I had never been without until one day when the whole world changed.

The death of a dog tears the human heart in a way that can never fully be healed. As much as it hurts us, though, perhaps it is helpful to remember that dogs do not think the same way we do. They are far more philosophical about death, more understanding that it is simply a part of living, and I always imagined that they dreaded it primarily because they knew how it would affect us. I believe that dogs are instinctively aware that death will come eventually, which is why they are always so happy and playful and enjoying the moment. We could learn a lot from them.

So my friend told me that his dog had died, and as much as I loathe poetry, for reasons I am still not able to explain I thought to take pen in hand and wrote the following bit of verse for him. I'll share it now, having happened across the original copy in a yellowing pile of papers in one of those boxes that lies forgotten in the back of the closet for decades. Share it as you see fit with anyone who might take some small comfort from it. I only ask that you keep my name on it and don't try to make any money from it. That's not what it was meant for.

ON THE PASSING OF A DOG
Samuel Conway, ca. 1989

I think we both know
That the time has come in which
We must finally say goodbye
After all these years.
So please, stroke my head just one more time
And tell me again what a good dog I am.

You are sad now -- I'm sorry.
If there were a way to stay with you
I would. You know that.
We'll never forget our years together.
And now, at least, you needn't make the big decision
Because I've made it for you.

You are crying now -- Please don't.
Here. I'll just climb into your lap
And curl up, just like I used to
Whenever you cried, and maybe lick your face
One last time. It always worked before,
And though maybe not this time, it's worth a try.

You are better now -- I'm glad!
I couldn't bear to leave you in tears.
I'd rather be in your arms now than anywhere else,
And while I won't feel your gentle hand again
And these great brown eyes will not meet yours,
I'll have the memory of them to warm me as I go.

It's time now. I think we both can see.
Think of me. I'll think of you.
And please, stroke my head again
And tell me just one more time what a good dog I am.

Boston, April 15, 2013

unclekage — Tue, 16 Apr 2013 14:38:12 GMT

In the midst of the chaos and carnage, bystanders spotted a man who appeared to be Middle Eastern and who was running from the scene. He was seized, taken to a hospital for treatment of a leg wound, and questioned at length. News feeds everywhere along with the Twitterverse echoed with "Saudi man being questioned about explosions!"

Then we heard:

"Law enforcement officials questioned an injured Saudi national at a local hospital, but news stories indicated that the individual appears to have no connection to the case. The Boston Globe reported that he was simply a frightened spectator who had tried to flee but was tackled and restrained by bystanders."

In other words, "Look! An Arab! It must have been him! Get him!"

It made me sick to my stomach. How horrible for this unknown person or persons to try to make a statement by murdering innocent people, but almost as horrible to me was what the incident revealed about the people affected. In that moment of terror and fury, they dropped all pretense and revealed their true selves.

So, who was behind it? Islamic extremists? Christian extremists? Anti-abortion activists? Pro-choice activists? Gun-control supporters? Gun-rights supporters? We'll find out soon enough -- once all of the facts are in and the angry speculations that only echo our personal prejudices settle down.

Uncle Kage's Story Hour 2012

unclekage — Tue, 19 Mar 2013 00:35:07 GMT

I actually got the raw file weeks ago, but every time I looked at how old and flabby I've gotten I got depressed. I could only edit it a few minutes at a time.

People call me the "Face of Furry Fandom." Jeezus, with a face like that, no wonder the Fandom's got such a ghastly reputation.

Twelve random things

unclekage — Wed, 16 Jan 2013 13:13:00 GMT

In the last week, I have three times had people who have known me for years say, "Really! I never knew that about you!" It never occurred to me that someone would say that, considering that I am always rattling on about this and that and the other thing. So, purely for the hell of it and purely because I have about 15 minutes to kill before the coffee finishes brewing (no coffee, no workee, that is the law), here are twelve useless facts about Uncle Kage that you may or may not have known, but now do.

My grandfather was a teetotaler, as was I…until I got to graduate school.

I drive a stick-shift car exclusively.

I had my Bachelor’s degree at the age of 20 and defended my Ph.D. at the age of 25.

At my Ph.D. defense I weighed 135 pounds and had a 28-inch waist.

One year later, after a stint at Nabisco Corporation, I weighed 175 pounds and had a 32-inch waist. Beware the Chips-Ahoy!

I am partially blind in my left eye, the result of an ischemic episode that was never fully explained.

I am related to Malaysian pop singer Shayna Zaid (of Shayna and the Catch). She is my second cousin.

I was a bone marrow donor, the 313th unrelated match found through the National Registry.

I have never partaken of any illegal drugs, not even once.

I have published seven short stories (5 with Sofawolf Press, 1 from Daw Books, 1 with Penguin USA) but always upon invitation from publishers or editors; I have never submitted a story that was rejected.

When I was a very young child I had a morbid fear of lab coats.

I cannot start my day without a cup of coffee. Ooo, it's ready!!

New story in print

unclekage — Wed, 19 Dec 2012 13:34:20 GMT

It starts like this:

Poor old Appollonios! His happy, wine-soaked dreams gave way to an awful pounding in his head, as though some very large bird were pecking at his temple, peck peck peck! He awoke from the fog to discover that, indeed, a very large bird was pecking at his temple. With a grunt, he flapped his arm to shoo it away, but the bird was back in an instant, peck peck peck.

“Oh, go away!” Appollonios cried. “Stop bothering me.”

But the bird would not go away. It flittered away from his hand only to return right away, its huge black beak pounding at the poor old man’s head. Angry now, Appollonios summoned the Fire within him. He did not mean to harm the bird, of course, only to frighten it off, but much to his surprise the bird threw up its wings and a gust of wind rose that parted the flames to either side.

“Aha!” the bird croaked. “So you do have Fire within you!”

It's available in Elemental Magic, which can be purchased from Amazon in paperback or Kindle edition. Page 23.

This story follows what seems to be a recurring theme in my mass-market publications: "Birds can be dicks."

Philcon 2012

unclekage — Thu, 08 Nov 2012 20:34:21 GMT

Philcon, which was my first convention and one of the world's oldest (these two facts being unrelated), has very graciously invited me to take part in some panels at this year's gathering which starts...tomorrow, actually.

Here is the schedule that they gave me:

Fri 11:00 PM in Plaza II (Two) (1 hour)
THE FALLACY OF A GEEK HIERARCHY

Sat 2:00 PM in Plaza II (Two) (1 hour)
RE-IMAGINING THE FAIRY TALE FOR ADULTS

Sat 9:00 PM in Plaza VI (Six) (1 hour)
INSIDE OTHER MINDS: CAN WE EVER REALLY IMAGINE AN ALIEN PSYCHOLOGY?

Sat 10:00 PM in Plaza II (Two) (1 hour)
50 SHADES OF ALIEN GREYS - SEX IN SF

If anyone is in the area and would like to stop by and provide a drink to a suffering soul who is dying of thirst, I might be able to round one of those souls up for you.

Election: an experiment in the Issues of the Day

unclekage — Tue, 06 Nov 2012 16:55:25 GMT

I would like to take a poll. You may feel free to post anonymously; as long as you follow the rules, I will unscreen your comment so everyone can see it.

1) Please state who you support in the presidential election. It may be either a party or a specific candidate for President.

2) State which specific issues have led you to your decision.

3) You may NOT mention any opposition candidate, nor may you make any reference at all to any positions other than those of your candidate or party. Any entries that include "I don't want to vote for XXX because..." will be deleted.

I'll start.

My support is behind President Obama for the following reasons:

1) I believe that the ultra-rich should be taxed at an appropriate scale, just like everyone else.

2) I think that gay people should have the same rights as any other American, and that includes the right to marry and to indulge in the benefits of marriage.

3) I believe that women should be granted more say in what happens to their bodies, both before, during, and after pregnancy. I do not believe in the use of abortion for casual birth control, and in fact I oppose that on personal moral grounds; however, I do not want the law of the land written based entirely off of my personal morals.

4) Having experienced (repeatedly) a healthcare system in which one who does not have enough money is forced to do without healthcare, I think that it is time we had a system that allowed anyone to receive medical care without having to worry about selling the house to pay for it.

5) I think that Mr. Obama, given the chance, will follow through on his promise to discourage outsourcing and encourage job growth here in this country.

6) I strongly believe that education of our children is underfunded and needs to be strengthened.

7) If we do not want our bridges to fall down and our roads to crumble any more than they are, someone has to pay for it. That someone is us. "Tax and spend" is how the government works. I would like to see more oversight of the process to reduce waste and fraud, but that is something that must be pursued no matter who is elected. Sure, I would love to pay less in taxes, but not if someone else is going to suffer for it.

8) I am very supportive of the Environmental Protection Agency and would like to see its powers extended to ensure that we do not have a return to the brown, petroleum-stinking rivers of my youth.

It is my personal belief that Mr. Obama is the candidate with the greatest likelihood of success in ensuring that these issues are settled in a fashion that is in keeping with my view of a better America.

Remember this, while you're cleaning up storm damage

unclekage — Mon, 29 Oct 2012 17:04:23 GMT

And keep it in mind when you're on your way to the polls next week.

Governor Mitt Romney, on Larry King Live, June 13, 2011.

GOVERNOR ROMNEY: We should take all of what we’re doing at the federal level and say, what are the things we’re doing that we don’t have to do? And those things we’ve got to stop doing, because we’re borrowing $1.6 trillion more this year than we’re taking in. We cannot…

KING: Including disaster relief, though?

ROMNEY: We cannot — we cannot afford to do those things without jeopardizing the future for our kids. It is simply immoral, in my view, for us to continue to rack up larger and larger debts and pass them on to our kids, knowing full well that we’ll all be dead and gone before it’s paid off. It makes no sense at all.

On storms

unclekage — Sat, 27 Oct 2012 16:31:06 GMT

Hurricane Agnes plowed across Pennsylvania when I was barely seven years old. I remember being terrified and crying as it started up and my mother having to comfort me to get me to go to sleep. Late in the night my sisters woke me up and said, "Come and see the hurricane." We sat in the living room of our little house and watched trees whipping more violently than I had ever seen before (and have rarely seen since). My fear turned to fascination, and then to a rather bizarre sense of hubris. Outside the window was a very savage storm and there were heavy objects flying through the air, but here we were safe and dry inside.

I remember thinking something like the child's equivalent of, "Oh, yeah! Uh-huh! That all you got, Bee-yatch? Bring it on!"

Afterward there was no power and we had to get water from a tank truck parked at the end of the road for a few days. The rivers had all overflowed their banks and the front page of the Evening Bulletin had pictures of coffins floating in people's front yards from cemeteries that had been deluged, but we ourselves were fairly unscathed. My cousin's house had been flooded and everything within washed away. My mother told me, "Renee doesn't have any toys now," so I gathered up some of my Tonka trucks and wooden Little People to give to her. That really was the greatest impact on me personally, and it just added to my sense of, "Nature, yo' a pussy!"

Thereafter I tended to look at storms as something to be challenged. It was almost a personal thing: me against the lightning. My chums and I used to run around in thunderstorms holding long lengths of copper pipe over our heads -- in retrospect, perhaps not the most evolutionarily sensible behavior, but it was our way of showing defiance. When not out getting soaked, I would sit inside and watch the lightning with the sort of air a cat has when it's sitting on the side of the window that the snarling dog is not.

I think that's why I found myself gravitating toward disaster recovery services. Sure, I like to help people and I do my best whenever I can, but I believe that I still feel a sort of deep-down satisfaction with helping someone back on their feet when Nature knocks them down. It's the smug little boy peering out the window at the lashing rain and saying, "Neener-neener! We're still here!"

Emergency preparedness

unclekage — Sat, 27 Oct 2012 01:46:01 GMT

I hate this job.

I am in emergency management. We are asked to predict the future. If we say, "It's going to suck" and it doesn't suck, we get laughed at and nobody listens to us ever again. If we say "It's going to be fine" and it's not fine, we are pilloried and can never show our faces in public again.

Hurricane Sandy is on its way to the Mid-Atlantic. Nobody knows for sure where it is going to make landfall, but that doesn't matter. This mofo is 2000 miles across. Wherever you are between Virginia and Connecticut, it is going to suck.

If you're anywhere on the Eastern seaboard, please prepare yourself for at least 3 days without basic necessities. No running water, no electricity, no internet, no phones, no lights, no motor cars, not a single luxury.

How? Simple. Make sure you've got at least 3 gallons of clean water for every person in your household. Further, keep additional water (a bigass barrel or garbage can in your bathtub works good) so you can flush the toilet now and then.

Have lots of batteries on hand for light. For God's sake, don't light a candle if the power goes out. I can't tell you how many burned-out homes I've crawled through after storms.

Food. Non-perishable. Screw the milk and bread. Why the hell do people stock up on that? Get stuff that'll keep. Canned food. Protein bars. Bottled water. Your refrigerator is going to be as useless as teats on a bull after 12 hours.

Books. Remember those? You're going to get damned bored without your FurryMuck and your Twitter and your Second Life and your FurAffinity.

Don't forget your neighbors. You're not the only person in the world. Look after one another -- it's what we're here for.

Be ready. Have food, water, batteries, medicine, pet supplies, gasoline, clean clothes, an escape plan if need be.

And if I'm wrong? If this turns out to be a dud? Well, har-dee-har-har. Look how silly I am. Now you've got a bunch of water to drink and a bunch of protein bars to go through. And maybe you'll get to those books one of these days.

If I'm right...well, I hate being right. But I'll be here to help when the wind dies down. It's my job.

Why is it always Republicans who say these things?

unclekage — Wed, 24 Oct 2012 14:31:44 GMT

I am genuinely curious to know if there are any Democratic lawmakers/candidates who have made such statements on the topic of abortion:

"I think even when life begins in that horrible situation of rape, that it is something that God intended to happen." Indiana Republican Senate candidate Richard Mourdock, Oct. 23, 2012

"It seems to me, from what I understand from doctors, [pregnancy resulting from rape] is really rare. If it’s a legitimate rape, the female body has ways to try to shut that whole thing down." Todd Akin, Republican U.S. Representative, Missouri, August 19, 2012

"With modern technology and science, you can't find one instance [of a woman's health being endangered from a pregnancy]. There is no such exception as life of the mother, and as far as health of the mother, same thing. With advances in science and technology — health of the mother has become a tool for abortion for any time under any reason." William "Joe" Walsh, Republican U.S. Representative, Illinois, October 18, 2012

"Rape and incest was used as a reason to oppose this. I would hope that when a woman goes into a physician with a rape issue, that physician will indeed ask her about perhaps her marriage, was this pregnancy caused by normal relations in a marriage or was it truly caused by a rape" Chuck Winder, Republican Senator, Idaho, March 20, 2012

"...I've always, you know, I believe and I think the right approach is to accept this horribly created -- in the sense of rape -- but nevertheless a gift in a very broken way, the gift of human life, and accept what God has given to you. As you know, we have to, in lots of different aspects of our life. We have horrible things happen. I can't think of anything more horrible. But, nevertheless, we have to make the best out of a bad situation." Rick Santorum, Republican presidential candidate, January 20, 2012

"Ethel Waters, for example, was the result of a forcible rape. I used to work for James Robison back in the 1970s, he leads a large Christian organization. He, himself, was the result of a forcible rape. And so I know it happens, and yet even from those horrible, horrible tragedies of rape, which are inexcusable and indefensible, life has come and sometimes, you know, those people are able to do extraordinary things." Mike Huckabee, Republican presidential candidate and former Governor of Arkansas, August 20, 2012

If you know of any such quotes from Democrats, please post them here.

Politics today

unclekage — Wed, 26 Sep 2012 13:21:23 GMT

I usually try to avoid open discussions of politics, but I feel I need to point something out simply because I seem to be the only one in America who has noticed a very disturbing change in the American political process.

I keep hearing folks say, "It's always been this way." No, it hasn't. You just haven't been paying attention. In the past when there was a hotly-contested bill in Congress, a vote would be taken and a decision would be made. The president would then sign or veto that bill. If Congress voted to approve it and the president opted to sign it, the losing side would fold their arms and sulk, but they would deal with it. We called this the "democratic process" or something like that, and were very proud of how "American" it was.

Now?

A bill is argued in Congress. It passes, and the president signs it. The losing side -- of late, primarily but not exclusively Republicans -- then takes up a campaign of fillibusters and delays and funding-denials and repeated "we need to repeal this NOW" votes that they openly admit are not likely to pass*. They do it anyway, though, tying up valuable floor-time in Congress with needless whining and tantrums. Why? They lost the vote, and now they refuse to allow Congress to proceed unless that vote gets overturned. The majority no longer rules in this "democratic process." The folks who lose refuse to accept defeat under any circumstances until they get what they want, and if they have to completely shut down the country or destroy the economy to get their way, by golly, that's what they'll do.

It hasn't always been this way. This is not the "American" system I grew up with.

*To wit, the more than thirty Republican-led votes to repeal the Health Care Reform Law, which was debated, voted upon, passed and signed into law by a perfectly valid democratic process.

Neil Armstrong, 1930-2012

unclekage — Sat, 25 Aug 2012 21:26:21 GMT

The Eagle has landed.

Three cheers for Allegheny County's finest!

unclekage — Sun, 24 Jun 2012 23:38:18 GMT

I've been chatting with Deputy Bill Kisner. You probably saw him in the Westin's lobby where he hangs out just to keep an eye on things and make sure everyone is being safe. He's the African American gentleman with the big smile and the biceps that are bigger around than my waist. A lot of us have gotten to know him and I am pretty sure that many share my very high opinion of him.

I asked Deputy Kisner if there was anything extra we could do to thank him (maybe a beer, but every time I see him he's in uniform, so that wouldn't work), and he noted that a nice letter or two from our attendees that got put into his personnel file would come in handy when the annual reviews come around.

You know, that's a fine idea. For all the hard work, all the times we've called for help or medical assistance and he's been right at our sides, let's see if we can't get Bill a nice raise! If you've got something particularly praiseworthy to mention, please drop an email
to Allegheny Sheriff William P. Mullen [Wmullen(at)court.allegheny.pa.us] and tell him how much we like Deputy William Kisner.

Here's how he closed his last email to me when I told him how much he rocked:

> You all bring friendship and millions of dollars to this city and it has
> changed us all for the better! Thanks Again for your kind words
> concerning me and what I do for a living!
>
> . Your Friend Always
> . And Proud To Serve Anthrocon
>
> . Deputy William I. Kisner

Anthrocon 2012 redux

unclekage — Tue, 19 Jun 2012 17:06:06 GMT

Anthrocon 2012 has come and gone. As usual I am both exhausted and elated. I think that in all the years that I have been chairman, this has been just about the best convention we have ever put on. A few glitches here and there that made my blood pressure go up but that is part of the job. For the most part things went smoothly, and there were plenty of "Squee!" moments for me.

The SQUEE moments

Our Guests

I am so very, very pleased to have welcomed both Dev Madan and Mike Kazaleh. I have actually known Mike casually for a few years but it felt good to give him the recognition he deserves as a man who has had his creative hand on just about every facet of comics and animation that we have seen. Dev had a lot of fun and gave me a tremendous compliment: "Thank you for ruining every future convention-guest appearance I'll ever have." We strongly believe in keeping the "honor" in "Guest of Honor" and I am happy to have succeeded once again.

A big, big round of applause to returning guests Andy Runton, who I understand has been in discussion with some Very Important People about bringing Owly to a much broader audience, and to mummeteer Jim Martin, who surprised us all by introducing Gary Gnu Mark II to a whole new generation of fans.

A personal joy for me was meeting the amazing Sardyuon from Japan. I was flabbergasted by the first video of his acrobatic act that I saw on YouTube and had dreamed about some day having him make an appearance at Anthrocon. I found out when he arrived that it had long been his dream to be a guest a Anthrocon. Both of us got our wish in the same day.

Our international delegates

As always, I was thrilled to see my old friends from around the world. My beloved Deutschfurs, the crew from the UK, a whole gang from Singapore, a veritable army of Australians -- welcome all, and I hope you enjoyed our company as much as I enjoyed yours. A positive delight for me was to meet a great group of new friends from Japan. They were headed up by Imuhata-san, who was a tremendous help and who I am overjoyed to have met. He was very patient with my extremely poor Japanese and although he claimed that I spoke very well, I know that he was just being polite.

We were also blessed to welcome Manma-chan from the popular Japanese variety show Sanma no Manma. He might have looked like a big floppy dog, but I watched him break a whole stack of roofing tiles with a single karate-chop onstage. I will be posting further information and maybe even some video links when the episode of "Manma-chan's vacation to Pittsburgh" airs.

The people of Pittsburgh

Something happened this year that has never happened before, and as far as I know has never happened to a Furry convention before. At least three times in the course of the convention, and once by an anonymous phone call from a very sweet 84-year-old local lady, people ran up to say, "Thank you so much for being here!" Where else but Pittsburgh can an entire city literally throw its arms around you and give you a hug? I'll say it again, Philadelphia, and listen good: Pittsburgh has a heck of a lot to teach you about Brotherly Love.

Our attendees

Guys, you rock. For the most part (except for, well, see below), everyone was well behaved. The hotels were very happy and reported only minimal damages and vandalism; I suppose there's no way we can ever really avoid that. The housekeepers were happy and left lots of little thank-you notes for our folks.

Our numbers

Still hard to get my chin off of my chest. A final count of 5179 attendees, 1044 fursuiters in our parade (I counted them personally as they crossed the bridge), more than $20,000 for our charity "Hello Bully"...believe me, we never expected it. We just tried to put on the best convention that we could. I hope we succeeded in that endeavor.

Fernando

You love him. We love him. Pittsburgh loves him. Many, many thanks to those who helped him through his hardship. I am very happy to announce that while his restaurant is officially closing in a month, the new owner of the building has invited him to return next year for Anthrocon week in order to set up a temporary eatery just for us. He's already planning the menu and is looking forward to seeing everyone's smiling face once again!

Fizz!

Did you like the lasers? Did you like playing Asteroids on the side of the Convention Center? Thank FizzOtter and his laserly genius for that!

The Escalators

When they broke, they at least became stairs. We apologize for the convenience.

The Glitches

Radios

Our radios did not work. I was very angry with the supplier for this. I do not care to name them, and I cannot Bear to Comment on it any further, other than to say that they blamed the inappropriately named "Sprint" wireless network. I went much of the convention without proper communication to or from my staff. I always used to hate how much chatter went on in my earpiece; I now know just how critical it all is.

United Airlines

Hey, I have an idea! Let's promise this guy flight times that bring his guest in at a reasonable hour so that everyone can have a nice dinner and relax. Then once we have his money, let's change the schedule to have his guest leave before dawn, sit in an airport for nine hours, and then arrive after midnight. Now let's do that for every one of his guests! He'll love us for it!

"The Party"

We had one particular incident that caused me some heartburn. Loud party, a certain "Mr. A" that made the hotel mad at us, blah blah. tl;dr. Now that I've had some wine I'm not so mad about it anymore, and I smoothed it over with the hotel, so blah.

The Washington Room, aka the Westin Headless Zone

We tidied this up ourselves so that the Westin's long-suffering housekeeping staff did not have any extra work:

This is why we can't have nice things.

The Convention Center is Too Small

We totally ran out of room this year. There was not enough space in the Headless Zone for fursuiters. The panel rooms were packed to capacity. We had to turn some panels away simply because we had no place for them. This had me all bummed out, until Mary from the Convention Center tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Hey, you know, we do have an entire 4th floor that you guys aren't using." So guess what? Next year -- Anthrocon moves upward!

And there you have it. All in all, one of the best conventions my staff has ever pulled off. My thanks to everyone, staff and volunteers, especially the STUFF crew who is standing over my shoulder right now with their arms folded, and to you, the attendees. We love you all to pieces, and look forward to seeing you July 4-7, 2013, for The Fast and the Furrious!

Happy Memorial Day!! :D

unclekage — Mon, 28 May 2012 09:13:26 GMT

Here's your "happy Memorial Day". Don't ever say that to me.

Final tally of donations for Fernando

unclekage — Wed, 02 May 2012 21:38:15 GMT

$23,887 (plus a 10-Euro note). Heartfelt thanks to the whole community on his behalf.

Any final donations for Fernando?

unclekage — Mon, 23 Apr 2012 21:37:38 GMT

A few folks have asked, "Can we still donate?" and a few have asked, "Can we donate using something other than Paypal?"

Yes and Yes, although I'd like to get a final total for him very soon before we turn our attention to other charitable causes, like ones that can lick your face. :)

Paypal donations can be sent to help.furnando@yahoo.com (yes, with a "U" in the name) until the evening of Wednesday, April 25.

Paper donations (made out to Fernando DeCarvalho) can be sent to him via Anthrocon's PO Box:

ANTHROCON
PO Box 476
Malvern, PA 19355

Please make sure that any additional donations sent that way arrive before Monday, April 30.

On Tuesday, May 1, I'll pack up anything else that has come in, along with the remainder in the Paypal account, and send it out to him all at once. Then we need only dream about lasagna wraps until we can get our hands on the real thing in June!

The power of community

unclekage — Sun, 22 Apr 2012 11:52:11 GMT

Yesterday, April 21, 106 members of the Furry community crowded into Fernando's Cafe on Liberty Avenue in Pittsburgh. The original plan was for this to be a final gathering before Fernando closed his shop for good. We knew that the economy had been very unkind to him but none of us knew just how unkind. For the past several months the gas had been turned off at his apartment; he had spent that money trying to keep his restaurant going.

One week ago I put out an appeal for folks to help. No one expected the sort of response that we saw. Almost 500 donations came in, not just locally but from all over the world, some even from people who had never been to Pittsburgh but who wanted to help out. In just that few days we collected* $21,000 which I converted to cashier's checks and placed into an innocuous-looking envelope.

Fernando set up a buffet for the crowd and gave us a flat fee of $12.99, all-you-can-eat. I encouraged folks to drop any excess cash into a tip jar, and Fernando -- who had spent a chilly winter without money to pay his gas bill -- announced that anything that went into the tip jar would go to his staff, who had come in on their day off to help out.

That is Fernando DeCarvalho, and that more than anything made me proud to hand him the envelope. The moment was captured by Revit; I hope he doesn't mind that I ganked his picture since it really says it all:

Channel 4 (WTAE) was there -- they got almost all of the facts wrong but that's all right. This wasn't supposed to be a media event anyway. The important thing is that Fernando's is going to be there for Anthrocon in June, and Fate willing he'll be there for many years to come.

I want to note that I am receiving a lot of back-patting and you-go-dude's from people. It's nice and thank you for it, but please remember that all I did was spark the fire. It was Furry Fandom that kept the flame going. We have witnessed in this little event the tremendous energy that our community can inspire in one another, and the sort of miracles that can be accomplished by ordinary people with extraordinary heart.

Thank you all, not just for your generosity but for simply being you.

-- Uncle Kage

* (More donations came in after I departed for Pittsburgh and there is still more than $1000 in the hat. We'll give it another few days and then send the full remainder to Fernando, who I imagine last night had the first restful night's sleep in many months, thanks to Furries worldwide).

Helping Fernando

unclekage — Mon, 16 Apr 2012 03:37:45 GMT

Most folks know by now that Fernando DeCarvalho, owner of Fernando's Cafe, is going to be forced due to financial hardship to close up his shop in Pittsburgh. This hits me particularly hard. When we first moved to Pittsburgh and all of the local storekeepers were hiding behind their shutters and wondering what was going on, Fernando hung out a big "WELCOME ANTHROCON" sign. He helped garner support for us, and even went so far as to coordinate with his competitors to make sure that everyone had enough supplies to keep Anthrocon's addendees fed.

Things were going well for him until the economy crashed, and for the past three years he's been struggling. I have discovered that he actually realized that he was out of money sometime last year, but he tried to keep going just a little longer, primarily because he wanted to have one more Anthrocon with us. It wasn't to be, and in a couple of weeks he'll be closing up for good.

Furries are well known for coming together to help out members of the community, and I think that Fernando, a man who changed the name of his shop to "Furnandos" for a week in June, qualifies as a member of that community. We probably can't raise enough to keep him in business, but we can certainly try to help him with the mountain of debt he's built up.

~~If you would like to help, please consider clicking on the button below. If you prefer not to use Paypal, please email help.furnando@yahoo.com and I'll tell you where to send a check.~~ UPDATE More than $21,000 later, the Furries have saved Fernando's!

If anyone has not heard, there's going to be a furmeet at Fernando's on April 21. We'll be taking donations up until the afternoon of the 20th, and we'll present him with whatever we've raised the following day. If you'd like to attend, please visit http://pittsburghfurmeet.surple.com/ and let us know. If you're a fursuiter, the Westin is graciously providing us space to use as a Headless Zone.

Fernando has meant a lot to us. Help us send him home in style.

I-Con report, 2012

unclekage — Thu, 05 Apr 2012 22:36:15 GMT

I was invited to be a guest again at I-Con this year. I-Con is a general science fiction convention with a rather unique venue. It is held at Stonybrook University, with the programming taking place in various academic buildings. The dealer's room fills up the university gymnasium. They cater to all fandoms, from anime to Star Wars to furries to Robert E Howard. For some reason -- desperation, perhaps -- they like to have me up to do some programming for them.

The Good

I like the university setting. For some reason I feel very comfortable at the front of a classroom where there's chalk and a chalkboard and I can write things and if I get worked up I can hurl a piece of chalk and have it shatter into a thousand dramatic fragments. Whee!

Egg Creams! John "Johnny Skunk" Cornetto, who runs the Furry programming track, likes to make this oddly-named local treat, which has no egg therein but which is chocolatey and yummy and filled with heroin or something because you just can't stop.

Non-furry fans. Now, this is not to say that I don't adore the furry community. It gives me a warm fuzzy, though, when people show up to my events who aren't furry fans. Of course, it probably means that they had nothing better to do and figured they'd sit in a classroom and listen to an old man rant and ramble while they waited for Big Name TV Star's presentation next door, but nonetheless it's nice to see new faces. Especially when I am doing a science panel. For some reason I get a lot of folks in "Science, Pseudoscience and Outright Crap." I guess in the end it's just egoboo for me, but it's my journal and it made me all giddy, so there. Last year for reasons unknown I had an "anime girl posse," these thirteen-to-sixteen-year-old catgirls who followed me to every single event that I did. I still do not know what to make of it.

Gideon. Furry artist, known for his unique style, and also one of my best friends. He always goes with me to keep me out of trouble. Usually fails miserably, but this time he did an admirable job and nobody called Campus Police on me. I love his company 'cause we can talk about geeky fannish things.

Banquet. They have an awards banquet where they feed us nummy things and it has an open bar and the Big Names show up there and it's fun. This year some young filmmakers joined us. Their film was called "GOD MACHINE" and I saw the trailer which looked cool but I wasn't able to go to the showing which made me kind of sad because they were really nice folk.

Some things that might be improved a little

Schedule. It was embarrassing to look at the schedule. There were more typographical errors and outright misspellings than I could count. It was as though someone with very poor English skills had thrown it together in a big rush and nobody had time to proofread it before it went to the printer's. Then again, that could be exactly what happened. :/ Just 30 minutes of someone else reading it could have made it a lot more professional.

Speaking of professional: At the awards banquet, there was one table filled with very loud folks who were whooping and hollering and carrying on. It was "that table," the one at any banquet where everyone else stares and then looks at their friends and shakes their heads, and then bitches about afterward. "Did you see those people? Were they drunk out of their minds or what? I could barely hear the speaker." OK, that's bad enough, but the part that really floored me was that they were staff members, and one of the fellows joining them had a jacket that was boldly imprinted with VICE CHAIR. Maybe I'm getting old and turning into a stick-in-the-mud, and in fact I probably am, but those folks are the last ones who would have been making such a scene.

Coordination: It struck me that the convention seemed to be governed by a "group of individuals." Each track leader seemed to do his own thing and I did not see a lot of organization, and there was certainly no evidence of central leadership or even a chain of command, no "Con Ops" that was visible. Here's some issues that arose that could easily have been solved by some coordinating body in evidence:

A room in which I was to speak was locked. Poor Johnny Skunk had to physically run to find the "person with the key." He had no radio, and no phone number that he could call if such a thing happened. I noticed that the room next door was open and vacant, so I just went there. Easy solution. Unfortunately, someone helpfully made a sign that listed the correct room number but the wrong building. "MOVED TO JAVITS 108" the sign said, when it should have said, "MOVED TO HARRIMAN 108," or more simply, "MOVED NEXT DOOR." Some folks showed up, saw the sign, and went across campus to Javits 108...which turned out to be a janitor's closet.
There was a nice microphone and mixer and amplifier and speakers in the big lecture hall where I gave Uncle Kage's Story Hour. That made me all happy. About 2/3 the way through, however, a gentleman showed up on stage beside me. I stopped and asked how I might be of service. He was very deferential and looked quite miserable to be there, but he sheepishly said, "I've been sent to gather up the A/V equipment." That was a little startling, but I made no fuss, since the gentleman had his instructions. I put on the stage voice and finished without microphone or speakers, although I strained my voice a bit and was hoarse the following day.
Scheduling. They gave John a room in which to make his egg creams. As they are both nummy and divine, people come flocking to it in order to get their fix. But they scheduled Gideon for a presentation in the same room immediately afterward. Now, his presentation attracts a mature audience -- as well as some not-quite-mature audience members, but they're not allowed in. There was no real way to stand up and say, "OK, everyone bugger off, there's gonna be naughtiness in here!" So he quietly took his laptop to a corner and had a private discussion with some of his core fan group while everyone else in the room kept getting high on egg creams.

That's pretty much what sticks out in my mind. Overall I certainly had a good time and was very grateful for the invitation and for the reception I got, and if they'd like me to go again I most certainly would! I also recommend it to folks in the area. It's got a small but lively furry contingent, and if nothing else, the egg creams will keep you coming back for more!

Goodbye, Josie

unclekage — Thu, 15 Mar 2012 01:48:55 GMT

I just got word that Josie DeCarlo has passed away.

It's odd, really. When I was a very small child I loved to watch Josie and the Pussycats, and in my boyish dreams I always thought it would be neat if Josie and I were friends. It tickled me pink when she wound up being a guest at Anthrocon in 2001, and then kept returning there and to other furry conventions in the ensuing years. We developed a friendship over the years, that little boy's dream come true.

The last time I saw her was about four years ago. She had moved to Florida after the death of her husband Dan (creator of Josie and the Pussycats, the main character of which was both inspired by and named after Josie). I had heard that she was not very happy down there, and further that her health was starting to decline, so I made arrangements to fly down then called her up and said, "Hey, Baby, how about a date?"

When I arrived she was all ready, and according to her caregiver she'd been ready all day long. Age had caught up to her and she was having great trouble remembering things. At first when I arrived she could not remember my name, but as soon as we pointed to a photo of her, Dan, myself and Kuddlepup at Anthrocon 2001 (a photo she kept on her coffee table for the rest of her life) everything came back to her.

We had a lovely dinner together, drank some wine, then returned to her house and went through some old photos and some of Dan's old artwork. Those who knew Dan DeCarlo would not be surprised that some of the artwork made me blush furiously, and even then Josie giggled and said, "And then there are the ones we keep in the family."

Throughout the night she barely spoke a word of English. We spoke almost entirely in French, a language in which I have some clumsy fluency. I was never certain if it was because she was having trouble remembering how to speak in something other than her native language, or if she was just happy to have someone that she could speak it with.

At her insistance I stayed in her guest room that evening. In the morning when I woke up she was already making breakfast -- oatmeal, my ancient enemy. I tried to find a way to avoid eating it but she said, "Mais c'est pour vous que je l'ai fait (But I made it just for you)." How could I say no to that? So I eagerly gulped down a mushy icky blecchy goop that tasted like ick and smiled the whole time and thanked her profusely.

Gave her a big hug when I was ready to leave and she held onto me for a couple of minutes. Even though I promised her I would come to see her another time, I think we both knew that I wouldn't be able to keep it and that we would not again see one another in this world.

I called once since then and was surprised when her granddaughter answered. She told me that Josie had been moved to full-time care. When I asked how she was I was told, "She has her good days." Anyone with elderly friends or family know what that means.

Now an announcement from Mark Evanier has let me know that I no longer have to worry about the dear lady. She's fine now. Godspeed, ma cher, and thank you for being my friend.