The Escape Claws

While the world watched British police drag a scruffy Julian Assange away from the Ecuadorian embassy in London this weekend, NPR had its eye on Mr. Assange’s more dignified (and better dressed) flatmate: his dapper cat. If anyone has ever cried out for an autobiography to be written, this fellow is the one. There’s plenty of pathos and drama (not to mention a plethora of puns) in the NPR profile of “Embassy Cat,” whereabouts currently unclear, enough to get a nice meaty narrative going.

For Want of a Suit

I’ve written before on this blog about the impractical way that women get costumed and accessorized in fantasy and science fiction but, as usual, real life is even further behind in terms of accommodating the realities of their bodies. Much has been written about how NASA’s plan for the first all-female spacewalk was scuttled by a lack of available appropriate attire. As a person interested in organizational theory, my first question would be at what point did the planning break down on this mission? My guess is 1954.

Now 100% Ghost-Free!

I realize that there is a preponderance of ghosts on this blog and this post isn’t going to help, but who could resist a story about a haunted supermarket, especially when the spokesperson for the chain issued an official response that “as far we know, all of our stores are ghost-free?” [Can’t you imagine that at the bottom of their next print ad?] Better yet, the same person came up with an ingenious afterthought that makes fine wine of this possible lemon: “If there’s anything to it, she’s probably attracted to our Victorian-era prices.”

Dangerous Decorations

What arrests me about this piece on “haunted furniture,” besides all the delicious possibilities for storytelling it exudes, is the question of how a “haunted bedroom set” expresses itself. The piece brings to mind a local landmark here in Maine that is chock full of curious objects. If ever a place existed that sold haunted furniture, this place must be connected to it. One of my husband’s relatives once came upon a small airplane stowed in the back of one of the bays of the massive main barn. The poor fellow yearned for that plane, speaking of it fondly on many occasions when we met, but saner heads prevailed and prevented him from purchasing it (perhaps by pointing out that he had no idea how to fly it).

One More Round of “Candy Man”

When my husband wants to tease about an obnoxious song, he likes to mention Sammy Davis Jr.’s The Candy Man (usually in the context of “But it’s a good thing it wasn’t….” or “Here’s one you don’t want stuck in your head…”). I like to picture the classic Saturday Night Live (SNL) skit where Paul Simon gets stuck in an elevator that turns out to be cruising through the outer rings of Hell and features “elevator versions” of his music. All this comes to mind as I contemplate this (true, believe or not) story about a well-meaning robot companion who keeps playing music to the annoyance of his human astronaut team. Hell, indeed…or almost 30 years of marriage to the guy who can’t forget…this song and how much you both hate it.

Hopefully, anyone who wants to draw this out and develop it has learned from watching SNL itself that there is such a thing as overstaying your welcome with a concept (i.e. most of the skits I’ve seen in recent years were probably twice as long as they needed to be to deliver their punch).  In other words, this is a funny short story but not a series.

P.S. Yes, I am aware that Christina Aguilera has “rehabilitated” the “Candy Man” trope into a very authentic-sounding 40’s style Big Band girl group toe-tapper that lyrically would have gotten her banned from all of media back in the day. You’ll never hear this term the same way again.

Artful Dodging

The recent story about a Willem de Kooning painting that resurfaced after having been missing for decades struck me first because I have become very interested in abstract expressionism and particularly admire many of the artist’s works. The title of the story, however, offers much to the imagination of a writer, with its breathless query into how and why a stolen painting worth millions reposed in the private collection of a seemingly ordinary couple.

Just Beastly

Since my sister is the one who alerted me to the existence of this niche sub-genre, I couldn’t resist emailing her the minute I saw this headline about the sudden popularity of Bigfoot erotica (I know. You can’t unsee that phrase. Apologies.). I titled my email “Unwelcome news.” I have not changed my mind since the last time I wrote about this. I still feel that anyone else who wants this topic can have it and run with it (far, far away please).

What’s more interesting than the genre itself is the fact that it was used as a mortal insult ( warning: you can’t unsee this post either) between political rivals in “real life.” Apparently we are no longer content in this country with accusing each other of being witches, socialists, Nazis or arugula eaters (yes, all are real “insults” from recent times in American politics) and are finally moving on to something…really big.

Little Ship Lost

NASA recently announced the re-discovery of a spacecraft that disappeared 8 years ago hiding in plain sight in orbit around the moon. Questions abound and they seem like they could lead down some interesting paths. In these conspiracy-theory-rich times, one can even speculate about devious plots to force attention away from dastardly doings on Earth or hide data, objects, or persons in the most unlikely place. Have at it.

Counting On a Crow

My local paper recently published this account of a popular local character who happened to be a crow. Smokey the crow was, by this account, bright and mischievous, as well as friendly and talkative. Among other exploits, he was known for stealing parking tickets from cars and trinkets from stores. One of his human friends taught him to say “Hello.” He was so devoted as a companion that he followed his friend along on his paper route. The crow was so well-known as a beloved scamp that his death rated a front-page obituary in the paper.

Of Two Minds

As if my brain didn’t hurt enough from spending hours at work learning about how medical claims get paid and then recorded in the accounting system, I learned this morning that Schrodinger’s Cat is (was? will be?) more complex than we all thought. I keep a copy of a Dilbert cartoon about this on on my fridge as an homage to my physics loving progeny. In the strip, the evil HR director, Catbert, introduces the new staff member, a cat that used to work for a Dr. Schrodinger who let him go before an experiment was done, thus leaving him both dead and alive. Dilbert asks if that means he’s a zombie, to which the cat replies, “I have half a mind to be offended.”

In the new twist to the cat’s story, it has been determined that the cat can be dead and alive in two different places and that acting on one of the cats will cause the same outcome or reaction for the other. For example, tickle the cat…well, first you put on gloves, I guess…and it laughs or bites someone in both places…heavy gloves are needed. This concept was taken a step further by physicists applying it to photons in the lab.  I can see where if I went beyond writing space operas and actually wanted to put the effort into writing actual science fiction or more robust fantasy, this could be a very useful concept. With it, I could feed both my cats at once remotely. Everybody wins.

P.S. I re-released and rededicated the most recent volume of my “Startrail” space opera in honor of Prince, who inspired one of the characters back when I wrote the first story that would eventually become the first book.