The Democrats are doing it again: they’re so busy fighting amongst themselves that the Republicans and the Trumpians can just sit back and laugh, knowing they’re going to win because the Democrats are their own worst enemy. How many of them are yelling at Senators Manchin and Sinema to change the filibuster rule in the Senate, instead of yelling at the Republicans and the Trumpians to protect voters’ rights? They’re just wrong. The reason the original filibuster existed—and the current horrible incarnation of it is in place—is to prevent the tyranny of the majority over the minority. Yes, of course, the majority should decide. But if the slimmest of majorities can stomp all over the largest of minorities, that’s not what we want either. And overturning the filibuster now will only result in even unhappier Democrats in the future, because the pendulum continues to swing, and there will be a time when the Democrats are a minority.
Every time there’s a political debate, it’s the same story: the Republicans yell at the Democrats, the Trumpians yell at the Democrats and threaten the Republicans, and the Democrats yell at… other Democrats. Just the latest instance of the gang who couldn’t shoot straight, DC edition. If they ever focus on those who are actually in the wrong on the issue, they might be able to accomplish great things.
In a ongoing discussion of the Mensa Bulletin (the national publication of American Mensa), one topic that came up is members who don’t read it at all. One of those members commented “I realize part of it is my own fault. When I received the print edition, it would be on the kitchen table. I’d pick it up and read it over meals by myself. When I changed to the digital edition, I stopped reading the Bulletin.”
That, more than anything, is why I have spent years railing against the trend to all-digital publication. A physical magazine is there, in front of your eyes. You see it, even if you’re not going to read it. An electronic publication is so easy to ignore, to skip today because you’re busy, and then have it scroll down to the unnoticeable part of your unread in-box, that it won’t be many issues before you stop reading it altogether.
If the goal is to save money, to do everything as cheaply as possible, then by all means, we have to drop paper publication and shift to all-electronic.
But if the goal is to produce something that people notice, pay attention to, and read—and in the case of a membership organization, produce a regular reminder that readers are members of this organization, and may want to renew their membership regularly—then the printed magazine is a necessity.
I just finished giving my talk on Isaac Asimov for Eastern Oklahoma Mensa. Had a great time! I think nearly ten percent of the group’s membership was there (they said it was the best turn-out they’ve had in a long time). And they were a responsive crowd, despite the limitations of Zoom (I really, really miss doing my talks in person, where I can properly interact with people).
And they made this awesome ad for their Facebook group! Isn’t it neat?
Every time I do one of these talks, I get pumped up. The adrenaline rush comes after I’m done, but that was the joy with being in-person: after a talk, I could hang out with people, keep the evening going. Talking via Zoom, once it ends, the Zoom window shuts down, and I go right back to sitting in the house by myself <pout>. So now I’m amped up, and nothing to do with it. Oh well, I’ll try to save it up for when the world re-opens.
Reading articles like this (“Gravitational Waves Should Permanently Distort Space-Time”)makes me want to go back and study physics properly. But then again, I react similarly to other interesting articles in other fields of study. So instead, I just keep reading the interesting articles, and thinking “Wow, that’s interesting!”.
This particle article also makes me wonder: Given all of time up to this point, shouldn’t every point of space-time have experienced the passage of multiple gravitational waves, to point that all of space-time should be gravitational-wave distorted, and thus experiencing the gravitational memory effect? And since the universe is basically uniform and homogenous in any direction, wouldn’t that equally widespread memory be indistinguishable? Yep, another thing I want to study.
On several pages, I’m seeing that today is National Science Fiction Day, so chosen because it coincides with Isaac Asimov’s birthday. Well, I’m a science fiction writer and publisher, so that’s as good a reason as any to encourage you to go read some science fiction.
It also reminds me that, next Saturday, I’ll be the monthly speaker for Eastern Oklahoma Mensa, talking about “A Century of Asimov” and my time with him. I won’t actually be in Oklahoma (which is one of the 15 states I have not yet visited), but I’ll be using the formerly science fictional method of Zoom to join them electronically.
It was a weekend of people and art: kind of exciting, kind of tiring. And now I’m getting ready for a long science fiction convention selling books.
Friday was Greater New York Mensa’s holiday party. Kind of a small turn-out, but a nice time. Well, except for the fact that Pamela felt the need to enhance my eyebrows with some of the cotton otherwise decorating the intensely decorated Papillon Bistro and Bar on 54th Street. Eh, it wasn’t that bad.
After the party, I walked to the subway with a new friend, past the Alliance-Bernstein Building, which has this cool globe in front. And here’s a close-up of it.
I was walking through the LES to meet up with Michele, Mary, and Erin for the Interactive Van Gogh exhibit on Pier 36. (Talking about it yesterday, I learned that there’s another, competing immersive Van Gogh exhibit in New York City; I didn’t see that one.) I walked around the building, took some pictures of the river and the bridges, and got to the entrance right on time. The exhibit was very impressive, though not exactly what I was expecting (obviously, I hadn’t read enough of it before we went). It was less like an art gallery, more like an all-around-you movie with a (slightly too loud) soundtrack. The exhibit takes Van Gogh’s paintings, projects them on the walls (and floors), animates pieces of them, duplicates and overlaps them, and sets it all to music. But it has a definite start and end point, as we discovered when the display ended with a credit scroll after half an hour… and then restarted. Two of the rooms are smaller, very dark, with interesting mirrored sculptures. The third, large room is much brighter (and in this room, the displays are also projected on the floor, making us part of it all. Michele commented on seeing the brush strokes, and as the images enlarged on the wall, it was very easy to see the individual strokes. I sat there a bit, trying to decide if we’d chosen the proper spot, or if, like the cosmological principle, every spot was the center point, the focal point of the show. Whichever it was, I got a good dose of art. I noticed a lot of people taking a lot of photos and videos while in the exhibit, but I decided to just absorb it, rather than try to record it, so if you want to see what it looks like, check out the link.
After the show, of course, there’s the gift shop and the pose-in-it frame (with poor lighting), so I did.
Then Chris joined us for a nice brunch, and then Erin left us, and the new quartet went up to 14th Street for the Banksy: Genius or Vandal? exhibit. He’s a very talented artist, and some of his pieces really grabbed me, but overall, I was less pleased with this one. It might have been the repeated theory that Banksy is opposed to capitalism, consumerism, etc., yet he sells limited edition prints of many of his works, and the exhibit charged a fairly hefty entry fee, and of course there’s the obligatory gift shop at the end… Well, it’s not really my taste. But for those who are fans, this is a good display of a lot of his work (in a much more traditional gallery format). And as with Van Gogh, I didn’t bother taking pictures in the exhibit.
And after that exhibit, we walked up town to Penn Station to get Michele to the train. Then we walked around Macys to see the windows, as the mist turned into a light rain, and Chris peeled off to catch his train. Then Mary and I walked up town, through the winter village in Bryant Park, through the mobs in Times Square, and out past the tree in Rockefeller Center, and to Saks, where we caught the lights-and-music show. Then we turned around, made better time walking south on Fifth Avenue (past the Library, with Patience and Fortitude wreathed for the season), and got Mary back to Penn Station minutes before her train left.
Then I walked back to Herald Square, caught my subway home, and got into the house five minutes before the light rain turned into a torrential downpour. A very nice two days with good friends (and one of these days, I’ll learn to take pictures of the people with me).
I’ve just learned of the death of Jessica Young, on November 23. I knew it was coming for a long time, but that doesn’t make it any easier to accept. Last February, she emailed to tell me she had inoperable pancreatic cancer (the same thing that killed my grandmother two decades ago), and that she’d just been through a year of chemotherapy and high intensity radiation treatment. So I spent the last year sending her chatty emails every month or so, just to let her know I was thinking of her, and because I really was thinking of her.
I first met her at the Mensa Annual Gathering in St. Louis in 1995, where she took me to the Gateway Arch. We ran into each other again a few years later, at the AG in Philadelphia in 2000, which cemented our friendship. After that, we saw each other intermittently, at Annual Gatherings. With the coming of smart phones, we communicated more often, sharing fireworks photos when we weren’t at Independence Day celebrations together. We saw each other only rarely, but every time, it was just picking up where we’d left off the last time, one long friendship.
Only once did we see each other outside of Mensa: In February 2016, her chorus sang at Carnegie Hall, and she was in New York for nearly a week. I got to see her most of the days she was in town, showing her around my home town, enjoying her concert, seeing a Broadway show, just hanging out, as good friends do.
She hadn’t responded to my most recent emails, and I knew the end was near. But a few days ago—at my sister’s house for Thanksgiving—I wondered that I hadn’t heard anything from her. After getting home tonight, I did a web search for “Jessica Young obituary,” and found it: she really is gone. https://www.kutisfuneralhomes.com/young-jessica-c/
Jessica Cerridwyn Young was a member of St. Louis Area Mensa. She is survived many family members and friends, all of whom, I’m sure, saw her far more often than I, and were far closer to her than I, and thus will miss her even more. But she was a very dear Mensa friend to me, and the excitement of next year’s AG will be tempered with the melancholy of knowing she won’t be there.
It’s starting to feel like the before-times again. I just got back from a weekend on the road (I was in Charlotte, North Carolina, for Charlotte Blue Ridge Mensa‘s Regional Gathering, which hosted the AMC meeting), and now I’m getting ready to leave Friday for Philcon, my second science fiction convention of the new world.
As a typical science fiction convention, I’ll be spending most of my time in the dealers’ room at the Fantastic Books table. We’ll have many copies of Allen Steele’s brand new novel Sanctuary, and of the non-fiction book On Samuel R. Delany’s Dhalgren (I’m hoping to have Delany himself at the table for some of the time, to sign copies). But I’m also on programming. If you’re looking to catch me there, my scheduled items include:
Friday at 6:00 PM in Plaza 2: “Perils and Pitfalls of Near-Future Scenarios” with Jennifer Povey, Margaret Riley, Michael A. Ventrella, and Joan Wendland
Saturday at 1:00 PM in Plaza 4: “Writing and Publishing in the Digital Age” with Neil Clarke, Gordon Linzner, Margaret Riley, and Ann Stolinsky.
Saturday at 5:00 PM in Plaza 3: “The Future You Imagine is the Future You Get” with Mitchell Gordon, Mark Roth-Whitworth, and Jeff Warner.
Saturday at 7:00 PM in Plaza 3: “Alternate Histories” with Scheherazade Jackson, Roberta Rogow, Mark Roth-Whitworth, and Chuck Rothman.
Sunday at 11:00 AM in Plaza 5: “A New Dune” with Randee Dawn, Barna William Donovan, Robert Hranek, and Lawrence Kramer.
Two years ago, I was preparing a talk about Isaac Asimov, to commemorate the centennial of his birth. Richard Lederer and I shared a stage at the American Mensa Annual Gathering that summer, and then I gave the talk as a solo several times over the next few months.
When I was putting the talk together, I wanted to include the only known picture of Isaac and me together, but couldn’t find it. I dug through all the albums in the house, the boxes of unsorted pictures, what negatives I could find from the right era, but no luck. The best I could find was a photocopy of Isaac’s obituary I wrote for Mphasis (the newsletter of Greater New York Mensa), which included a black-and-white printing of a photocopy of the picture. So that’s a photocopy of a photoprinted copy of a photocopy: several generations removed from the original, and not the best resolution.
Recently, Mom was going through the built-in bookcase, and the pictures on it and in it. As she was dusting the top, she took down a plastic photo holder that has a large picture of Mom, Laurie, and me. I happened to walk through the room, and saw there was another picture looking out the back of that photo holder: a big picture of me, and smaller, at the bottom, facing back… the picture of me with Isaac that I’d been looking for! It’s a first-generation print off the original negative! The negative is probably gone, but I’ve finally found the “original” of the picture. So I’ve scanned it, saved it, and present it here: Isaac Asimov and me in the editorial office of Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine, taken some time in 1991.