i clutch my stack of paper // press one to a chest // then watch it swoop and stutter to the ground // how movements rise and then dissolve // melted by our shallow breath // how causes dance away from me // i am your pamphleteer // i walk this room in time to the beat of the gestetner // contemplate my next communique.
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Again via Lee Jones (in turn via Bryan Curtis), number nine in an occasional series on the bizarre, the vicious, the touching, and the delightful in book acknowledgements (follow the numbers for entries one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight). This skewering is delivered by William Vollman, from his book Imperial (Viking, 2009)
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Via: https://twitter.com/pulplibrarian/status/602536889065803776
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Michael Moorcock, full of excoriating insight, from his essay 'Epic Pooh':
I sometimes think that as Britain declines, dreaming of a sweeter past, entertaining few hopes for a finer future, her middle-classes turn increasingly to the fantasy of rural life and talking animals, the safety of the woods that are the pattern of the paper on the nursery room wall. Old hippies, housewives, civil servants, share in this wistful trance; eating nothing as dangerous or exotic as the lotus, but chewing instead on a form of mildly anaesthetic British cabbage. If the bulk of American sf could be said to be written by robots, about robots, for robots, then the bulk of English fantasy seems to be written by rabbits, about rabbits and for rabbits.
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YES.








For the first decade of Galaxy Science Fiction’s 30-year-run, Ed Emshwiller illustrated every Christmas issue cover. They starred a Santa Claus with four arms, despite the fact that he appears to be giving presents primarily to two-armed martians.
[Phil SP, Geeky Nerfherder]
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The research claims these phenomena are “understudied,” as though there is some amount of study they should endure.
(via shitmyreviewerssay)
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Via Lee Jones, number eight in an occasional series on the rare wit of academic acknowledgements (follow the numbers for entries one, two, three, four, five, six and seven). This offering is by Randall Bartlett, and taken from his Economics and Power: An Inquiry into Human Relations and Markets (Cambridge University Press, 1989).
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The seventh in an occasional series on caustic, touching, and funny acknowledgements (previous entries having covered pollution, political obstructionism, family and responsibility, failure and faecal matter, pure hatred, and immigration). This offering from Kieran Healy's Last Best Gifts: Altruism and the Market for Human Blood and Organs (Chicago University Press, 2006).
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we’re going to have a great time
from jealousofmyjetpack
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