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After 10 years almost entirely on BlackBerry, I switched to the Motorola Droid 2. I’m pleased with it. I have a complete Amazon Review of the Droid 2 here. I gave it 4 out of 5 stars.
I’ve not yet written a work of fiction that’s been published. Unless you count a shaggy-dog tale in a 1982 Grenadier Models catalog. Which you should. But over the last couple years I’ve found myself with the proverbial “lots of free time”, so I’m writing. Speculative stuff, like what I read. Now, every industry has its community and its conventions, and this year the World Fantasy Convention took place in my home town of Columbus, Ohio. It’s a professional convention for authors, editors, publishers, artists, and the lot; not a costume-ball playing-card party. I took a plunge and attended. Good choice. Great time.
Panels and readings made up most of the con. I couldn’t attend all I that I wanted to because of local family conflicts (the one disadvantage of a con in your home town), but standouts that I saw included: “Fantasy Gun Control”, Michael Stackpole’s interview of Dennis McKiernan, the well-attended “Tension Between Art and Commerce”, “What We Swiped from Borges” (I’ve a special place in my brain for Borges, you know), “The Continued Viability of Epic Fantasy” and its sequel “Swords & Sorcery”, and the panel on the year’s best in Fantasy and Science Fiction (with Ellen Datlow, whose insights formed my reading list in the 1980′s). I also thought Mary Robinette Kowal put on a good too-short tutorial on “How to Give an Effective Reading”. With my own background in public speaking and theater, I didn’t learn anything new as such, but she does such a good job it was fun to be in the audience.
I quite enjoyed the World Fantasy Awards banquet on Sunday afternoon. The salad was great, the “CHICKEN ENTREE” was good, and the desserts were phantastick. And plentful. And rich. I had the good fortune to share my table with James Enge, Latin geek and WFA Best Novel nominee for Blood of Ambrose; and the gang from Black Gate, John O’Neill, Howard A. Jones, and Ryan Harvey. Lotsa laffs at the table contrasted with heartfelt acceptances at the podium. These awards really matter to people: even the incomparable Gene Wolfe was overcome with emotion on accepting his Life Achievement award. Peter Straub was overcome too, but with touching silliness, or perhaps merry lunacy (after all, it was Hallowe’en).
I hung around after the banquet for the judges’ panel where they shared perspectives on the years’ awards. The real treat for me, though, was right before the panel, when I had a delightful discussion about Peter Jackson’s LOTR movies—with Dennis McKiernan. (FWIW, we agreed that Jackson’s decision to emphasize Éowyn’s story, and Miranda Otto’s portayal of the shieldmaiden, were brilliant.)
I also came away with the following books, mags, and samplers from the con. It’s likely I’ll read most, not all, and review some.
There was a juried art show featuring the works of Darrel K. Sweet, although I took a liking to Laura Reynolds‘ mixed-media pieces. The dealer’s room was tempting—and oh! the earthy scent of the old pages—but I resisted making any significant purchase. By Sunday I was exhausted and glad I had only 5 miles to drive, not a continent to traverse. I’s so geeked that I got to go: a top-notch event at a top-notch venue and a whole lot of top two-to-three-notches folks all around me.
I suspect it’s motivated me, too, if that little itch in the back of my head means anything. Anything good, that is.
Once upon a time in the Midwest, a rough-bearded man with a sensitive face bought a pack of disposable razors…
Read the rest of this review at http://www.amazon.com/review/R2CKVRFV2VA62I/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm
Pie pumpkins are a different fruit than carving pumpkins; they’re built more like acorn squash. The skin is thin, the flesh is firm and sugary, the cavity inside is small and packed with seeds. Grow some, or go to your local patch. They’re worth it.
Preheat your oven to 325° F.
Snap off the pumpkin stems and slice pumpkins in half vertically. Scoop out the seeds with a spoon. You can save the seeds to roast (recipe to follow). Place flesh-side up on a cookie sheet and roast the squash for one hour. Let cool completely, then scoop the cooked flesh out of the now rather-flimsy skins. Process briefly with a chopping blade in your food processor until smooth, about the consistency of canned pumpkin but infinitely better.
The pumpkin should yield about 3 cups.
In a bowl, sift together the dry ingredients (except for the sugar): flour, cinnamon, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. If you don’t have a sifter, use a wire-mesh strainer. Sifting makes a difference to the fluffiness and the evenness of baking.
In your mixer bowl, combine the sugar, oil, beaten eggs, and vanilla extract. Add the dry ingredients and mix at low speed just until the mixture is uniformly moist. Fold in the pumpkin just until combined, then do the same with the chocolate chips. Don’t mix too much! This is a quick bread; you’ll get the best results by mixing as little as you can.
Pour the batter into two greased loaf pans.
Bake at 325° F for 1hr 15min to 1hr 30min, or until a knife inserted in the center comes out dry.
Remove from oven. Cool in the pan for 15 min. Remove from pan and cool completely on a rack.
Oh, how delightful! Bread made especially for pumpkins!
http://derekbalsam.com/2010/10/now-you-journey-through-a-desert/
The state of knowledge about the human brain is still in the dark ages, as most in the field will admit. Sure, we know more than we ever have about neurons, synapses, neurotransmitters, and the like. We can hook up brain cells with minuscule leads and make the blind see, the deaf hear, the mute speak. Not bad at all—the stuff of miracles. Keep it up. But that’s low-level hardware stuff. That’s plugs and wires and inputs and outputs and components. We also know quite a bit about high-level behavior of the brain. Imaging technologies can tell us what you’re thinking in certain limited scenarios, just by detecting which part of your brain gets most active. We can cure some kinds of epilepsy by sending electrical impulses into sick brain areas. This is wonderful! We can surgically remove an entire hemisphere of someone’s brain and this will not only not kill them, but even heal them. That’s component or subassembly-level stuff. Also some pretty good Doppler radar of the brain’s electrical storms. read the rest of this entry »
I saw a man on a stage scream “Put me back in my cage!” / I saw him hang by his tie / I saw enough to make me cry…
-”Planet Earth”, Devo
Last Wednesday I finally performed my duty and attended my first ever concert performance by DEV-O, the De-evolution Band of Akron, Ohio (What’s round on the end and high in the middle?). Mark Mothersbaugh, Gerald V Casale, Bob1, Bob2, and the new boy Josh played for a large troupe of primates at the Ohio State Fair, where people also sell deep fried Snickers bars, sculpt unironic cows of butter, and fatten themselves on fattened pigs.
The condensed review: It’s a Good Thing.
The whole big mess: I have waited all my futile, repetitive ‘life’ to attend a performance by these spuds. Now that I have done so, I am happy to report that I have nothing further to live for but the dictates of my genetics. The grotesque, yet fully satisfying, spectacle of videos, lights, and calisthenics was accompanied by a throbbing beat, clamorous guitars, and victorious analog synthesizers. The analog tones produced by the vintage synths spoke with a raw-edged perfection that straddled the uncanny line between natural sounds and the noise of machinery. Modern digital synthesis is pathetic, weak, and bloodless in comparison.
Bob1 on the psycho-surf guitar tore shreds in the amps throughout the night; in the second half of the show his bandmates gave up their own synths for guitars themselves as they switched from new songs to old favorites. In lieu of a drum machine, the boys from Ohio recruited Mr Freese, the very man who is used as the calibration to ensure drum machines keep proper time. He closed his eyes and beat the skins like a man barely aware of anything but the insistent rhythm. Mark Mothersbaugh gave a consistently hyperactive performance, although for the last song he deserted us and left poor Booji Boy to sing the lead on “Beautiful World” – while images of the Deepwater Horizon flowed jarringly before us. And the brothers Casale on the bass and the rhythm laid down a texture not heard since our ancestors were hooting in caves.

A thing to remember: Devo are essentially two pairs of brothers, two of whom are suspiciously named Bob. These are men who have never grown up and make their livings still playing around with their brothers. This gives these sexagenarians a fount of youthful energy. They did not stop moving. Truth be told, the opening band were twenty-something hipsters who lolled lackadaisically about in their chairs making adequate music. In stark contrast, Devo understood that performance requires action. They simultaneously played instruments, sang, and ran frenetically to and fro, all while showing videos on a high-technology transparent LED screen behind them and three enormous displays around them.
The video entertainment was highly ironic. No, Gen Y, I do not mean ironic like a goatee or a Where the Wild Things Are t-shirt. Devo are dead serious about their irony. The videos taught us that our pheromones and hormones rule our minds, and yet our primitive culture subsumes french fries and donuts for sex.

In no reasonable order, I will now list for you the tunes they barraged us with: Whip It / What We Do / Uncontrollable Urge (featuring the original choreography!) / That’s Good (of Square Pegs infamy)/ Smart Patrol/Mr DNA (for die-hard devotees) / Secret Agent Man (a tour de force by Bob1) / Satisfaction (the original and best)/ Planet Earth / Peek-a-Boo! (scary) / Mongoloid (thoughtful, actually) / Jocko Homo / Going Under (a personal favorite) / Girl U Want / Gates of Steel / Fresh / Freedom of Choice / Don’t Shoot (I’m A Man) / Devo Corporate Anthem / Beautiful World. I should note that What We Do (the finest performance of the night), Uncontrollable Urge, Mongoloid, and Don’t Shoot were particular favorites of the feverish crowd.

I must admit that I draw the attention of my children (who, with my mate, accompanied me to the concert) to the lyrical teachings of Devo. Devo’s music can be beautiful, but their lyrics are, strictly speaking, not. Instead of focusing on Beauty, they focus on Truth. The Truth is only sometimes beautiful. It is often harsh, unwanted, and painful. Yet it is true, and we ignore Truth at our peril. It comforts us not to confront our descent from the apes; our slavery to our uncontrollable biological urges; our existence which repeats itself mundanely, day after day, generation after generation. These are Devo’s topics, set atop catchy jingles with danceable beats: “the fittest shall survive, yet the unfit may live“; “freedom of choice is what you’ve got, freedom from choice is what you want“. But Devo are never subjugated by the Truth. They don’t mope. Instead they also tell us how we must embrace our destinies and strive for success within the time and space we are given: Whip It! Step Up!
The evening was itself a success. Devo have been travelling minstrels for 37 years, but show few signs of flagging and little evidence of rot. They are still loud, brash, deliberate, annoying, fun, bright, stupid, and brilliant. Having felt their presence I can now spread the word as it has been ordained. If they invade your town, do not fail to heed the call. They have something for everybody.
It’s
a matter of long debate whether we’re born with a blank slate, a tabula rasa. Do we arrive in this world with our character predetermined, or does our nurture matter more than our nature?
Eh.
Like most such dichotomies – mind vs matter, yin vs yang, dogs vs cats – as a practical matter the resolution is in some combination of the opposites. The slate may not be blank but it’s got a lifetime of free space upon it. The capacity of our brains and minds is staggering. What matters is what we fill it with. But the ways that people’s minds operate – the schemes we use to fill our slates – vary widely. We have different learning styles, differing amounts of plasticity: you’ve heard that our brains can reorganize, remap, reshape like plastic.
It’s a useful ability when you’re a child, this plasticity. Plasticity’s also involved during recovery from brain injuries; even losing an entire hemisphere to surgery can be overcome as the brain rewires its pathways. It lets you learn how to talk, to walk, to read, to play musical instruments, to play sports, all sorts of complex, difficult activities. Then as you age, you lose this plasticity. It’s hard when you’re an adult to learn a new language, to pick up the violin or golf, to read if you never learned how. 
Some folks seem to have more plastic brains, or to retain their plasticity longer into adulthood. This might have some correlation with Asperger syndrome and autistic spectrum disorders. John Elder Robison, the Aspie author of Look Me In The Eye, wrote a great blog post about plasticity and the autistic brain.
Autistic people, young and old, have a well-known difficulty recognizing and attending to faces: problems with discerning emotions, subtle cues, and looking others in the eye. There’s research showing that these problems “about face” are the result of a combination of nature and nurture. There’s a system in the brain, normally located in the right hemisphere, that soon after birth is able to recognize faces. This is why babies can tell mommy’s face from their scary uncle’s. This system is less active in autistic kids, and fails to “jump-start” the face recognition skill. Developing social abilities depends also on a second step: feeding that face system with a lot of input. Looking at lots of faces. But autistic kids don’t want to look at faces, so they don’t get this input and don’t feed the system. End result: adults with limited social skills.
Limited social skills can be more debilitating than you might imagine if you’ve got social skills. Consider work. Landing a job, even the sit-in-a-cube-typing-code-or-calculating-orbital-elements kind, is really a social endeavor. Make phone calls and talk to people appropriately. Return phone calls within the right time frame. Answer the phone professionally. Interview one-on-one, scary. Interview in a large group, overwhelming. Email helps Aspies, that’s for sure, but it’s still a social act and you can’t escape the face-to-face. The Columbus Dispatch has a remarkable article on the difficulties they encounter in finding jobs.
That’s a tragedy both for the prospects and the employers.
The prospects, already socially isolated, fall deeper into isolation, and are out of work to boot. The employers are missing out on highly productive employees: in the article, a summa cum laude graduate computer whiz, for example. One man in the article has a Master’s degree and works as a janitor: an arrangement that serves neither party well. Economically speaking, matching candidates with Asperger’s to employers is a remarkably inefficient process. These are the employees that will do better at jobs that require higher intellectual abilities and the ability to learn complex things quickly: the very prototype of the “knowledge worker” on which 21st-century American success (not to mention humanity’s future) must be based. Yet another dichotomy – social vs. informational / personal vs. algorithmic – is of concern here.
I don’t have the answer. We’re doing good at identifying children on the spectrum younger and younger. We need to do better at intensive therapies that take advantage of their brains’ plasticity and target improvement of facial processing, social skills, and communications. We need better secondary and postsecondary educational opportunities for Aspies - early intervention is critical but continued intervention can mean the difference between janitor and scientist. (I have great respect for janitors. I just think that some people are better suited for this work than others.) Finally we need to figure out how to better match people with limited social skills to employers who need people with intellectual skills. Maybe it’s just wrong-headed to try to select people for intellectual jobs by subjecting them to the non-intellectual socially-oriented tests that we call “interviews”.
Eh. The answer always lies somewhere in between. All I know is there’re some fantastic plastic brains, and we need more of them.
I won’t call them fajitas. Too much controversy.
Rub the chicken breasts with the combined spices and let marinate in the rub, along with the 1 sliced medium onion, for an hour. Separately prepare the sliced bell peppers with the salt and black pepper, and spray with oil to coat.
Cook the chicken over indirect heat on a charcoal grill. While cooking, sautee the onions and peppers in a cast-iron skillet that you’ve also placed on the charcoal grill.
Grill all of this goodness until the chicken is cooked, firm, and has a nice brown crust. Remove all from heat. Let the chicken rest 5 minutes. Heat the tortillas briefly on the grill, then slice the chicken and serve with the onions, peppers, avocado, and tortillas.
I recommend mexican rice and pigeon peas (arroz con gandules) on the side.