A predicted date is rolling around

When talking about writing science fiction, I usually warn authors not to put near-future dates into their stories, because they run the risk of being overtaken by reality. Matthew B. Tepper just reminded me that early in my career, I did put a date in a story, one that is arriving all too soon. In “How I Won the Lottery, Broke the Time Barrier (or is that ‘Broke the Time Barrier, Won the Lottery’), and Still Wound Up Broke” (which was published in the June 2000 issue of Analog), the narrator gets a message from the future, from March 16, 2026.

There are several predictions in the story that did not come true… at least, not in this universe. Nevertheless, I’m wondering if I should do something to commemorate the day, to kick myself for getting it wrong (although I guess it was successful in at least one way: I sold the story, which was the real goal).

I’ll be traveling to Massachusetts later that week, but March 16 is a Monday, on which I currently have nothing scheduled. Anyone want to celebrate the day by helping me try to open a 27-year-long wormhole, to transmit a little information back in time? Or do something a little more pedestrian, people-getting-together type of thing? Or perhaps the day before, which is a Sunday?

Trump is Using Tariffs as Extortion

Donald Trump’s tariffs are imposed due to “emergencies,” which thus grant him the power to do that which Congress is the Constitutionally empowered body to do. Or so he says. And he keeps relying on the International Emergency Economic Powers Act for the thin veil of legitimacy.

I am having a hard time finding any “emergency” in Emmanuel Macron’s decision to not pay Trump $1 billion to join his “Board of Peace,” but somehow Trump sees that decision as justification to impose a 200% tariff on French wines.

I only hope the Supreme Court wakes up to its job, that it is not subservient to the president, but a co-equal branch, and that the Court kicks Trump’s entire absurd tariffing policy to the curb.

Added January 30, 2026: His illegal threats continue apace: “Trump first off private jet threat at ally that hurt his feelings”

Trump is Pissing on the World

Donald Trump is like a dog, pissing on things to claim ownership of them.

His latest is threatening staunch American allies with tariffs if they don’t support the forceful US annexation of Greenland. “We need Greenland for security,” he says. Does that sound familiar? It should. It’s what Vladimir Putin said just before ordering Russian troops to attack Ukraine. That’s the same Ukraine war, by the way, that Donald Trump said—during the 2024 election—that he would end within 24 hours if he won the election. We’re still waiting for that.

Long ago, I wondered if Donald Trump was a stooge working for Putin. Now I realize he’s simply doing his best to emulate Putin. Indeed, Putin gets all this Trumpian love for free.

Trump’s only morality is self-aggrandizement. Everything he does as president seems to have the same goal: to put more money in his pocket, or to put his name on things. In that respect, he’s not unlike a dog, pissing on things to claim ownership. The last major US territorial acquisition was the purchase of Alaska from Russia in 1867. The US acquired Puerto Rico and Guam due to the Spanish–American War (in 1898; we also got the Philippines, which became an independent country in 1946). And the US purchased part of the Virgin Islands from Denmark in 1917.

So what happens if the US manages to “acquire” Greenland? He becomes the first president since World War II to increase the geographic size of the United States. Indeed, he also gets to claim to be the president who acquired the largest parcel of territory for the US, and if you’ve listened to any of his speeches, you know “first” and “biggest” are among his holy words. (For comparison, Alaska is about 665,000 square miles, and the Louisiana Purchase [which the US got from France in 1803] involved about 828,000 square miles, while Greenland measures about 836,000 square miles.)

Any other president would measure success in terms of national peace and prosperity; the people’s health and wealth; happiness, amity, and community. But how does Trump measure success? With crowns on his head and dollars in his pocket.

He was talking about his “Board of Peace” this week. It’s key feature? Each member has to pay $1 billion, which he as chairman gets to control. The gold decorations dripping all over the White House are not impressive; they are there to tell him he controls vast sums of wealth. But he looks at the truly wealthy—Warren Buffett, Bill Gates, Elon Musk—and he feels his inferiority complex, because his wealth is not on that level. So he keeps grifting, keeps taking what he can.

The first load of Venezuelan has recently been sold, and the proceeds of that sale wound up in a Qatari bank. Why Qatar? Why not the US? Or, for that matter, why not Venezuela? Because this way, Trump has control over that money, can disburse it as he will. It has suddenly become his money.

The Trump Kennedy Center. The Trump Ballroom. The Trump Battleship. The Trump Institute of Peace. The Trump Savings Account. The Trump Special Visa for Rich People. The Trump Southern Border Boulevard in Palm Beach. His face on the National Park pass. And on, and on…

It’s time we told Donald Trump to piss off.

Edited February 6, 2026, to add this link to an article entitled “Everything Donald Trump has tried to name after himself since his White House return.’

Shouldn’t immunity be a two-way street?

The Supreme Court’s decision in Trump v United States (2022) seems to have set the standard for presidential immunity, that the President of the United States may not be sued for anything he does while serving as President (without any comment or direction as to what a President might do during his time in office that is not within the scope of his “official acts”). It seems most current interpretations of that ruling assume the President may not be the subject of any lawsuit, period.

At the same time, however, the United States is experiencing the presidency of a person who’s first response to almost any disagreement is to sue. I’m not sure there is an exact count of the number of lawsuits he has brought. For only the latest example, see President Trump’s threat to sue JPMorgan Chase.

As much as the President needs to do things that an ordinary citizen oughtn’t be able to do, it seems manifestly unfair that while Donald Trump as the President is immune from lawsuits, Donald Trump himself has the complete freedom to file lawsuits of his own.

Added January 30, 2026: And now he is suing the Internal Revenue Service. From the linked article: “The lawsuit, filed Thursday at a federal courthouse in Miami, says Trump is suing in his personal capacity, not as president.” So he can differentiate Trump-the-person from Trump-the-president. Hmm….

Not enough travel

I need to travel more.

I realized this today because I had to go to BJs to replenish the food supplies here. As I got in the car, I was excited—not to be going shopping, but just to be driving somewhere. It was only five miles each way, about 25 minutes each way, but it felt good.

Then I realized the last time I’d been in the car was coming home from the New Year’s Eve party, so it really has been a while.

And looking at my schedule, there isn’t a whole lot of travel looming in my near future. I’m going to a Mensa gathering in Newark, New Jersey, in a week and a half (I’ll be speaking on Saturday at some point), and then there’s Boskone the weekend of February 13, and I’ll be back in Massachusetts the weekend of March 20 for the niece’s show. But beyond that, a whole lot of not going anywhere. Hmm.…

A problem with names

Most of my fiction is short, sometimes very short. And I write a lot of my stories in the first person, because I find it lends intimacy and immediacy to the story.

But one of the stories I am currently writing seems to be more suited to being told in third person. Fine, good. It gives some room for a narrator (which I also enjoy doing). But a skill that seems to have atrophied because of all of my first-person writing is that I’m having trouble naming and describing the characters.

With a first-person point of view, the main character will rarely or never mention his own name. And think about how often you use other people’s names: if you’re talking with someone you know, you can go a very long time without either one of you mentioning your own or the other’s name.

Similarly, unless there’s been some great change—a new hair style or an interesting outfit—you’ll rarely describe or “characterize” yourself or the other. Heck, I look in the mirror every morning, but I almost never remark on my own appearance (well, other than this week, when I’ve been watching this subconjunctival hemorrhage turning my left eye a remarkably horrifying red, but the doctor said it should resolve itself in a few days [and yes, there’s a bit of characterization that doesn’t really move the story forward, but does lend color, if you will, to the tale]).

Back to my original point: I know sometimes names are very important, and can be a large part of characterization, but far more often, character names are just indicators so the author can differentiate one from another. So how do you pick a good name—and perhaps interesting characteristics—when those aren’t the foci of the story you’re telling?

P.S.—I thought about including a picture of my eye, but decided it would gross out more people than it would attract readers.

2025: The Year in Reading and Writing

A bunch of my friends do this, and I’ve done it in the past, but let it slide the last few years. My list is not so impressive as many others’, but for… reasons.
 
The books I read in 2025:
 
The Complete Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle. So many of my friends and acquaintances so often talk about Holmes, and I’ve come to understand the mythos somewhat, so I finally decided it was time to read some Sherlock Holmes. Well, I decided to just read ALL of Sherlock Holmes. So now I’m caught up.
 
The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli. Another one of those classics to which reference is often made, but which I hadn’t actually read. When I did finally finish it, I remember thinking the last few chapters seem to play (or at least pre-echo) a great deal of President Trump’s politics.
 
Godel Escher Bach by Douglas R. Hofstadter. I’d been reading this one, off and on (mostly off) for quite a long time. I finally finished it. Seems a little predictive and a little dated.
 
Tales of Galactic Pest Control edited by David Gerrold and Tom Easton. Some very good stories in this anthology, including one of mine.
 
Unidentified Funny Objects 7 edited by Alex Shvartsman. I didn’t laugh at all of them, but a good enough percentage.
 
The books I edited and published:
Ginger Snaps by A.R. Alan
Mystralhaven by Ron Kaiser
A Talent to Amuse by Daniel M. Kimmel
The Lies We Tell Others edited by Sahar Abdulaziz and Michael A. Ventrella
 
I also read and edited and worked on another seven books that will be published in 2026. I’ll talk about them in the near future.
 
By some measures, that’s not a lot. Only eighteen titles. Still, the Complete Sherlock Holmes is several books’ worth of reading. And in the cases of the books I edited, that was reading each of them two or three times (or even a few more, through various iterations). So I’m not embarrassed, but not bragging, either.
 
Finally, I am also a writer. And while too much time editing means very little time writing, I did manage to finishing writing and publish my book Punctilious Punctuation. And two of my stories saw print: “…a Crack of Lightning, or, The Zen Solipsist Muses Upon His Own Genesis” appeared from Amazing Stories on June 16, 2025; and “Infestation: White House” appeared in the anthology Tales of Galactic Pest Control, edited by David Gerrold and Tom Easton (July 2025).
 
Writing is a very emotionally rewarding occupation, but it isn’t exactly financially rewarding, so I’ve also joined the crowed, and set up a ko-fi page as a tip jar. If you’re so inclined, anything and everything will be gratefully appreciated, at https://ko-fi.com/ianrandalstrock . Thank you, and happy 2026. Let’s read!

Don’t Tell Me

I’ve been trying to be a better writer recently. I’ve actually been writing every day, and I’m making more of an effort to find markets for my writing (haven’t had much luck finding paying markets for my essays recently; my fiction—as does everyone’s—sometimes takes quite a while to find the right home).

Something I noticed several years ago—but which is making more of an impression as I’m making more of an effort to find places to sell my stories—is those markets requiring anonymized submissions. It’s not a terribly onerous burden—saving another copy of the story without my name on it—but I’ve been wondering who it really serves?

As a professional, I know that the most important people in the publishing ecosystem are the advertisers and the readers: those who pay for the magazine to exist. Everyone else is of secondary import. And I’m wondering if any of them care, or even notice, if the magazine or anthology in question requires anonymized submissions.

I did a quick search of publications who don’t want to know who wrote the story they’re considering, and found these examples from their guidelines:

Remember to take all author information out of your story! Tell us who you are in the space provided in the web form cover letter you get when you click on the “submit” button, NOT in your story! No headers, no bylines… just the story.

Please anonymize your work. No names or other identifying information should appear on the manuscript.

Anonymous Submissions. No identifying information should appear on your manuscript. We use anonymized submissions for our associate editors (first readers). Only upper-level editors will read your submission form information and cover letter, including any diversity statement. Failure to anonymize the manuscript will not cause us to automatically reject your story, but failure to read and follow our guidelines may affect our decisions.

Anonymity: Please do not put your name on your manuscript. All stories are assessed anonymously. [Ironically, this one requires contributors to identify as part of a specific community.]

[Magazine name] only accepts anonymous submissions. Please do not include your name, address, phone number, or other similar identifiers in the manuscript itself. All original fiction and poetry submissions will be read anonymously on first read: moving on to further consideration will depend on the merit of the work alone.

As I said, it’s not a terrible burden on the would-be writers (other than making sure the manuscript file I send is the anonymized one, not the regular one). But does anyone notice? Has any reader ever picked up a magazine and said “This is a great issue. I’m glad the submissions were anonymous.”? or “This issue would have been a lot better if the editor reading the submissions didn’t know the names of the authors before buying the stories.”?

For you readers out there: did you even know this was a thing?

 

It’s not a “health care” debate

One of the big topics related to the government right now is the ongoing debate over “health care.” Specifically, allowing the Affordable Care Act subsidies to expire, finding a better way to pay for health care, and blaming the other side for the mess we’re in (well, that last is pretty standard for every issue at the federal level). As a person who tries to use words precisely, to best communicate my thoughts to you, I cringe every time a politician or pundit says “health care,” because that’s never what they mean.

Health care is when I go to the doctor and say “this hurts.” The doctor checks me out, diagnoses what is causing the hurt, and treats it (or tells me what to do) so that it stops hurting. That’s health care. And in that respect, health care in the United States is great. We have excellent doctors and nurses and physician assistants and therapists and… a whole slew of people who do remarkable things to make us feel better and keep us healthy, along with the equipment and medications and more. And none of that is what they mean when the politicians and reporters talk about health care.

No, what they’re talking about is “health insurance”: a system of paying for the health care we get that keeps us going. And health insurance in the United States is a disaster, falling apart and falling fast. And none of the tweaks they keep proposing at each other are going to fix the health insurance industry, because we’ve been misusing it and expecting far more from it than it can ever possibly provide.

The thing is, health insurance isn’t some unending pool of money which pays for our every smallest medical need. Health insurance—indeed, any form of “insurance” (except the half-wager when you’re playing blackjack and the dealer has an ace showing)—is a collection of people betting on something they hope won’t happen.

Start with something slightly less controversial: car insurance. You pay a small amount every year to someone managing the money (the insurance company), against the (hopefully very small) chance of being in a crash and requiring a lot of money to repair your car (or one your actions damaged). This only works if there are a lot of people paying in for this insurance and very few of them actually get in crashes requiring large pay outs. In the ideal world, if you had enough money to cover those potential expenses, you wouldn’t bother buying insurance; you’d just pay the repair/replacement costs yourself if you ever needed to (I’m ignoring your responsibility for the other guy’s car, and why states require car insurance). What this all means is that most people pay for car insurance and don’t ever get any money from it, because the entire group of people is funding the expenses of the one or two people who will wind up actually needing it. It only works because relatively few people need it, and no one knows if they are going to be that one person who does. So everybody pays a little, and most never get anything but peace of mind from it.

Health insurance is similar to car insurance. At least, it used to be. You would pay a small amount every year against the (statistically) small chance of having a catastrophic illness or injury that would be very expensive to treat. And the few people who did have such needs would have their expenses paid for by the insurance company (again, in an ideal world), while everyone else in the insurance pool would wipe the sweat from their brows and say “I’m glad I wasn’t the one who needed the money.”

But health care has evolved. Most people used to only see a doctor when they had a major injury or illness. As we’ve developed more of the concept of wellness care, more and more of us go for regular check-ups, low-level medical treatments to prevent (or earlier detect) major problems, and so forth.

And while these are (theoretically) inexpensive health care events, we now expect “insurance” to pay for them all. (Admittedly, the costs of those inexpensive events have been rising, too. And if our politicians were serious about this whole debate, that is where they would be focusing: why does it cost hundreds of dollars for a regular check-up?) But as we expect most people to have those regular check-ups and those preventative treatments, we’re over-stressing the ability of health insurance to cover the catastrophic costs it was designed for. That’s not a fault of insurance; it isn’t a money-multiplier. Way back when, if everyone paid $100 a month for insurance, it was against the fear that one person in a hundred would have a medical problem this year that might cost $100,000 to treat. At those numbers, the insurance pool was sufficient.

But today, we’ve gotten to the stage where, instead of everyone paying in against the rare major need, everyone is paying in their $100 a month… and everyone is expecting insurance to pay the doctor $400 for our “see me in six months” regular check-ups, and we’re expecting insurance to pay for the $25-a-month prescription medicine, and suddenly there’s no money in the insurance pool for the $5,000 the emergency room is going to charge to treat your broken leg, and that $100,000 expense will be enough to bankrupt the insurance company.

The failure is that we’ve spent a couple of generations teaching people that medical treatment is health care, and it’s not just for emergencies, but that everyone should seek it out continually as a preventative. Medically, that’s a good thing. But financially, it may be ruinous. Our methods of paying for it have not kept up.

The recently signed discharge petition means the House of Representatives is going to vote on an extension of the Affordable Care Act subsidies sometime in January. Even if it passes, it’s not going to fix anything, because the entire concept of health insurance is broken. I readily admit that I don’t have the solution, either. But someone smarter than all of us is going to have to figure it out. Because if it’s something we expect most people to use, then the only way to pay for it is individually. And the costs have risen so far so fast that most people simply can not afford to pay for it.

The president’s proposed fix—“we’ll just give everyone $2,000, rather than paying the insurance companies”—is naive at best. Where is the government getting the money to give everyone $2,000? The same place the government gets all its money: from the people. It’s a non-starter.

Indeed, the whole debate has become the Second Law of Thermodynamics for finance: if everyone is paying for insurance, but everyone expects to use it, then insurance is nothing more than a drain on everyone’s wallet.

Blackjack table image by Frerk Meyer, shared under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.0. https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/7/7e/Blurry_blackjack_table.jpg/640px-Blurry_blackjack_table.jpg

Compliment and addition from Samuel Delany

I just got some very nice praise, and more information, from Samuel Delany about my latest book. He writes:

I recently enjoyed your book, Punctilious Punctuation, very much. One of the things you didn’t mention, however, is that anyone who has ever studied Greek (as I did in my youth) who learns to speak it (as I did in my time in Greece), realizes that the semicolon functions, in Greek, as a question mark. There is no mention of this in your otherwise remarkably thorough treatment of those jots and tittles.

Wow, thanks, Chip!

(And here’s a picture of the two of us from several years ago.)