Join Penelope and Otto as they discuss the best and worst this week's TV, news and entertainment. In the tradition of this great entertainment market, Penelope and Otto tell you what to buy, sell or hold and where you should spend your valuable TV minutes.This week we'll be talking about Football, Psych, Mumbai and the Shield series Finale.Call in at 718/508-9683 and tell us about Chuck, Heroes, 24 or your week's favorites! Click on the blogtalk icon, listen in and join us in the Chat room at 11:30pm CST!Read more…
I was looking for a picture of a black woman to go with my new character Sarah Caullings on photo bucket. after about three pages of thong and women wearing nothing i decided to give that search a rest. it's kinda sad that a naked big booty'd woman is the image that is being portrayed for black women. Beauty is one thing, but pornographic images don't qualify in my book under beauty.
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I played Dungeons and Dragons growing up. I lost my self in worlds inside of worlds. Throughout my childhood I ended up playing practically every type of role playing game there was. My mind became so fertile devouring fantasy, science fiction and comic books. I gestated a 'beautiful mind' in terms of being able to transform my environment suffused with deep meaning and pregnant with symbolism.As I grew poetry became my tool of expression yet I never stopped devouring those tomes that expanded my view of what was around me.So what is this?It's a serial. In the tradition of the old pulp shows of the golden age of radio. It is set in a fantasy world which is coming into existence with each letter that I type on this computer.It is a psycho-journal. It's how I am relaying certain things that are happening in my life, things that I want to happen, things that I think may happen, things that I thought happen yet didn't happen. It is me making mountains out of mole hills and mole hills out of mountains.If you know me you may find yourself in my story as it progresses. You may find a character that resembles you yet it ain't really you. Or maybe you may find the you that you want to be.It's fiction-factual and if anything is a workbook. Yet one thing, it is a story. In fact it may be THE story in terms of mythic archetypes. It's Truth. Enjoy.Crossposting is at this site yet the foundation site is DaybreakerRead more…
Books For Africa Donation DriveThis drive kicks off our goal to raise $10,000 in the next year for the White Cots School Centre in Kenya and to supply them with all types of books - fiction and non-fiction, especially text books. Each book costs 40 cents to send to Africa. It costs us 40 cents per book to ship them to the Minnesota BFA warehouse. That's why we ask for a minimum donation of $1.00.Help us spread literacy, knowledge and to end poverty throughout the world.If you are in the Washington, D.C. area, please drop off a "Book and a Buck" at the Black Author Showcase Holiday Book Fair on December 13th, 2008, 10 am to 5 pm at the Show Place Arena, Upper Marlboro, MD.http://www.basbookfair.comThank you from all of the literary lovers at the Black Author Showcase.Can't attend the book drive? Help our efforts by donating as little as $1.00.CLICK HERE TO DONATE TODAY!Read more…
Section Leader Kenard stomped from the monitor station to the analysis console to glimpse evolving tactical readouts on the data screen. His jaw was clenched tight with tension, not from the sight of an approaching enemy column, but its ever more daunting size. “There must be at least a hundred thousand of them,” he muttered dishearteningly, studying enemy icon movements on the adjoining short-range scan. He knew he was exaggerating the numbers, but not by much.The console operator glanced worriedly at Kenard. “That’s no raiding force, S.L.”Kenard agreed. The expected Gand attack was forecasted to take place on Serus, Iddirin’s fourth largest colony. As usual, Intelligence erred big.And they think Humans are the incompetent ones. “Contact headquarters,” Kenard ordered, swallowing his bitterness. “Tell them we have an invasion–level force assembly in progress. Please emphasize that the enemy is amassing across a 500 mile front and closing.”Multi-angle monitor feeds displayed images of Gand landers disgorging a myriad of powered infantry soldiers along with hundreds of armored vehicles ambling toward the front in bubbling clouds of dust. The AV guns fired low-combustion Electro-mag flash shells. Minimum grade destruction caused by these projectiles was a collateral effect to their designed purpose, which was to short out field barriers and disable equipment. The Gand infantry, resplendent in lustrous blue sun-glinted armor and rock solid phalanxes, marched behind loosely massed mechanized units. Each soldier’s propulsion node, embedded in his armor, was synchronized to full burn.At their present speed, Kenard expected them to breach the outer Outpost perimeter in thirty minutes or less.“Activate deflectors,” he ordered an operator sitting across from the analysis console. ”And put out a priority evacuation alert.”“But...but we don’t have orders…” Dampare stammered. He was fully supportive of leaving Outpost 12 in the face of that innumerable legion, but the unilateral nature of Kenard’s decision without authorization from Regional Headquarters…“I’m not waiting for permission from the top for us to evac. By the time the Iddies make up their minds we’ll be prisoners off to slaughter or slavery,” the SL explained patiently.“Besides, we’re doing what they would want us to do anyway, the logical move at least, and that’s falling back to Valley City where we can consolidate what forces we can draw upon to wage a reasonably effective defensive effort, so let’s cut the chit-chat and move!”Outpost 12’s 8,000 soldiers scrambled orderly but expeditiously toward the vehicle hangers where skimmers, treaded transports and aero-pods awaited. A small percentage formed rear guard detachments, some manning the gun tower ports peering over the 15 feet high shimmering deflector barrier. Others proceeded to occupy positions amid the barbed tangle of entrenchments 45 yards behind the barrier’s semi-enclosure. Electro-mag shells slammed into the barrier semi enclosing the outpost grounds in a steady concentration of fire. Outpost turret weapons responded with inadequate but steady volleys of repulser beams, picking off scores of Gand infantry with compensatory accuracy.Repulser beams did not kill, but disabled by means of trajectory displacement which concentrated dense layers of focused pressure en route toward a target and applied it with such force as to knock an armored opponent to the ground. Depending on where a person was hit, bone breakage invariably occurred. Head-shots were to be avoided unless absolutely necessary. A hit to the head by a repulser beam, like a blow from a blunt instrument, had the greatest potential of killing an opponent. And a dead enemy was suited neither for sacrifice nor slavery.Not all Makir races favored repulser type weaponry. Gand rifles represented the category of disabling weapons that ejected high charged inhibitor darts. These darts, upon striking a victim, sent a current knifing to the brain, attacking the motor cortex with utter malice, shutting it down, inducing instantaneous paralysis. Bones were not broken, but the nerve lacerating effect of contact provided an excruciating equivalent.Continual bombardment sapped the barrier’s strength. Undulating tendrils of luminous static crackled and sizzled across its surface from points of impact. Energy feeds overcompensated to maintain the shield’s integrity. Ultimately they failed. The barrier collapsed, leaving Outpost 12 open like a fresh carcass presented to eager scavengers. Swarms of inhibitor darts poured into the outpost with unencumbered fury snaring droves of unfortunates, but most of the Humans managed to escape. A convoy of vehicles loaded down with the lucky majority dashed across the flat terrain well ahead of the enemy army but not necessarily out of ordnance range.Several vehicles were either hit directly by electro-mag shells or disabled by proximity blasts. The rear guard soldiers absorbed the worst of the human casualties, yet were withdrawing in good order. Those operating the gun towers rigged them with charges and detonated the static defenses upon departure, depriving the enemy of their usage.Section Leader Kenard stayed behind to supervise the final phase of the evacuation. The brutally asymmetric configurations of Gand AVs loomed like rampaging herd beasts across the far perimeter. Their monolithic tonnages disguised their very real speed in masquerades of trudging deception. A blanket of enemy infantry, massed like packed dirt, followed close behind, the front ranks firing volleys of darts with each rapid yard of advance. Humans peppered by the tiny projectiles dropped like sacks, their bodies jerking catatonically as paralyzing venom enveloped their brains, deadening the networks of impulses to arms and legs.The screams accompanying the painful onset of total rigidity receded to mournful gurgles, finally exhausted silence when the victims lapsed into unconsciousness. Attempts to carry the immobilized soldiers to safety were partly successful. The density of darts skewering the air imperiled too many of the rescuers while EMG fluctuations pulsing brightly from electro-mag shell bursts, rendered inoperable a great portion of the skimmers needed for escape.A shell erupted scant yards behind Kenard as he was leading a group toward the inner outpost area. The blast concussion flung soldiers in every direction. Kenard dove face forward, his back tattered bloody with bits of gravel size shrapnel. A clanging, snapping din overrode the general commotion of war, drawing Kenard’s befuddled attention to the sight of enemy tanks crashing through the battlements. The men around him stirred to life, those that could. A flurry of inhibitor darts tore into them sending soldiers to the ground in wracking contortions of agony.The tanks halted just inside the battered inner perimeter, their multiple turrets ejecting a mix of darts and electro-mag shells across the outpost’s expanse. Masses of infantry streamed through breaches made by the massive vehicles and spread out, their crisp formations dissolving in a mad frenzy to secure prisoners.Kenard struggled to raise himself up. His wounds pulsed intolerable fire, but the pain occupied a sliver’s worth of space in his awareness compared to the horror of a fate he knew awaited him. The Gand would treat his wounds, of that he was guaranteed. They were extremely obsessed with insuring the good health of ranking prisoners. Fit prisoners made for an impressive display when paraded through Gand cities like the prize trophies they were. And when they were finished being herded in front of teeming masses of screaming, jeering fanatics, prisoners were given the honor of being cordially dispatched inside the grandest of sacrificial temples…only the ranking ones, of course.The thought turned Kenard’s gut into a churning vat of chaos, yet his mind, clouded as it was, allowed defiance to formulate, grow, evolving into a raging determination to deny the Ravager the sweet succulence of his essence. Urgency grabbed hold of the section leader. He scrambled toward an undamaged skimmer, close enough for him to reach it in a series of effortless bounds. But his weakened condition reconfigured that effort into an exhaustive feat…an unattainable one with the squat, helmeted forms of Gand infantry loping across every area of his view.Kenard still had a tight grip on his repulser pistol. He lifted the weapon to his temple.A Gand soldier fired off an inhibitor dart. The projectile caught Kenard in the back of the thigh, burrowing painfully deep. The section leader grimaced from the impact, but still managed to trigger his pistol before the dart could work its pernicious effect. An invisible force equivalent to the velocity of a slung boulder from five yards, slammed into Kenard’s head. The smile on his face never faded.
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Posted by Penelope on November 22, 2008 at 10:13pm
Join Penelope and Otto as they discuss the best and worst this week's TV, news and entertainment. In the tradition of this great entertainment market, Penelope and Otto tell you what to buy, sell or hold and where you should spend your valuable TV minutes. Call in at 718/508-9683 and tell us about your week's favorites!Read more…
Thomas Hobbes RevisitedWhile I was taking notes in my Western Civilization class I read over some information that made my mind really shift gears. Thomas Hobbes (1588 – 1679), is said to be “the most original political philosopher of the seventeenth century.” An incredible charge for someone whom lived in the same time with great individuals such as Galileo Galilei, Sir Isaac Newton, Rene Descartes, and John Locke, all of whom laid down an incredible foundation for discovery and discourse for centuries to come. While much of his fellow thinker’s works dealt with science and the mathematical solutions to the universe, Hobbes took on what I believe is a much more complex subject. Human nature.In 1651, Thomas Hobbes wrote the Leviathan, a book that took a very thorough and mechanical look at human nature and brutality. In the Leviathan Hobbes claimed that, “All mental states derive from sensation and all motivation are egotistical. The driving force behind human life is the quest to increase pleasure and minimize pain. Human beings have no spiritual ends and serve no greater moral purpose.” He goes on to state that humans form governments because of the want to meet simple needs and that a sovereign commonwealth is all that keeps the society from tearing itself apart. Hobbes saw people not as individuals looking to better themselves through life’s struggles and battles, but as “self-centered beasts who were utterly without discipline unless it was imposed on them by force.” In a time now where individuals are literally fist fighting for an extra gallon of gasoline, who could argue against him. What I find interesting about his thoughts of human nature is not his harsh views, but the way he places all individuals in the same negative category without any specific biases.Today we find biases on many levels. Race, wealth, appearance, and a mass of other seemingly meaningless ideas. If Thomas Hobbes is correct and all of our discipline is learned forcibly from other sources, how is one supposed to rise above adversity and prosper in life. Just as well what about the ever-faithful idea that people are products of their environments. I personally believe that people are products of their environments, but not in the same sense that most people believe.To understand the idea of being a product of his or her environment, one must define what an environment is. Dictionary.com gives a few different definitions of the word. From, “the aggregate of surrounding things, conditions, or influences,” to “an indoor or outdoor setting that is characterized by the presence of environmental art that is itself designed to be site-specific.” In the context of this argument, I pose another definition of environment. If our environment is based on the surroundings of our human-selves, then I state that our bodies are our true environment. In my mind I believe that without two key ideas and elements our bodies prove themselves to be nothing more than shells and housing for our ethereal energy. The elements and ideas that I speak of are the brain and the human soul (by soul I mean ideas such as conscience, karma, ying and yang, and similar concepts).Take for example, the act of moving a limb. To move the human hand takes nothing more than a thought to accomplish, but without that thought from our brains nothing happens. Just as well, a moving hand means nothing unless it has a purpose. Without a soul to give this movement purpose, be it in kindness for a handshake or a slap in anger, we are left flailing aimlessly throughout our days like a leaf falling from a tree. Regardless of the form the movement comes in, it now has meaning; it now has an end from its beginning. This, I believe, can be said for all movements, thoughts, and actions that we as humans have throughout our lives. Take the use of our mouths. Just opening and closing our mouths does little, even when trying to chew gum. However, by adding the power of the great equalizing soul and life beings to get interesting. Wars can be sparked by an insult or an idea that comes from two small lips, but with those same lips a resuscitating breath can be given and love can be made.My point is this, without the brain’s ability to move our limbs and the soul’s ability to choose how we move, our bodies are nothing more than cars without keys. We sit in our garaged homes awaiting our owners to turn us on and go wherever they want us to go. I hope that one can see where my definition of environment fits with the idea of producing an individual’s personality and lifestyle. If we are products of our environments and if our bodies are the environments that we are products of, I pose that it is up to each individual to define, endure, and fulfill their own lives.This may seem like a strange or impossible feat, but how many times have individuals accomplished goals or tasks with little to no active assistance. Day by day people overcome incredible odds that their surroundings should have stopped them from overcoming. It should not be possible for a one legged person to compete in an event that requires both legs but on April 19, 2006, Michael Milton became the fastest Australian speed skier - able-bodied or disabled - after setting a world record at 213.65km/h in France. Even with the encouragement of friends and family, this would not have been possible had he not looked into himself and found the will to continue towards his dream and goal regardless of any hardships that he encountered. If it is possible for a person with only one leg to ski faster than anyone in an entire country, what stops individuals from denying their ghettos or families and friends their own lives?By no means is life in any sense fair. Cards are dealt and hands are played, in many instances, on a no win basis. In the end, the deciding card lies within; there is no situation that must end with giving up. There is always an option of betterment and there will always be a choice. The fact that not every choice is the one that may be desired is irrelevant. Individual accountability holds that it is up to the sole proprietor of whatever action to take responsibility of said action. It is not the fault of the person whom threw the first punch to force the victim to stand and take the hit. It is up to the victim to look within his or herself and respond accordingly. The same can be said for anyone that has grown up in an area that does not suit their chosen lifestyle. That individual as well must look within and choose to move their environment away from whatever negativity that hinders their success in life or stay and find a way around whatever blocks their path.Society is filled with individuals that are far from holding up their titles as such. This society is full of castrated sheep that can do no more than follow the path of not the Sheppard but the nearest sheep to them. We find the need to give in to the ideas that were given to us and not question them nor seek to find our own truths. Learned helplessness is a psychological condition in which a human being or an animal has learned to act or behave helpless in a particular situation, even when it has the power to change its unpleasant or even harmful circumstance. In the same token, I believe that learned ignorance is the condition that our society faces. As a whole, we have learned to look past truth and side with impure assumptions. We would rather pass the proverbial “buck” to the nearest scapegoat, as opposed to taking responsibility any and all situations that we can control. Life is not something that should be placed to the wayside to wait for the next person to claim, fix, or destroy. Life is a precious individual singularity that is to be nurtured, loved, and furthered. The only way for us to prosper and thrive fully as a society is to care for and strengthen our own environments.As self-centered beasts, we should hold fast to that nature. Claim your life and assure everyone around you that no one can force or impose their will upon anyone without that person’s consent. Be one’s environment a wasteland full of despairing sludge or a tropical paradise filled with thriving love and peace, it is his or hers to nurture and allow to grow. How one goes about this growth is for each individual to choose, but that choice can never be taken away.
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“Come quick Meric, I think I saw an antelope herd this way.” Ezam darted forward smiling with the grin of a fabled laughing hyena. “Hurry up you poker, by the time you get to where I am I’ll have been long gone.” “Always joking, never serious about anything,” Meric thought. “You do realize that we’re not even supposed to be out here right now don’t you? If we get caught you know exactly what’ll happen!” “No I don’t you twit and neither do,” Ezam said not missing a step, “or did you forget that no one has gone hunting in centuries.” “That’s exactly my point Ezam, not a single person has hunted anything in this village in years. We all know the stories of the Angels keeping all life safe and not allowing any harm to befall a single living creature. Now here I am risking my life so you can tempt our fates.” Ezam stopped so quickly that Meric almost ran right into him. For a moment young Meric thought that he may have broken through to his younger sibling and that they would both turn around and leave. That was, until Meric saw the look in Ezam’s eyes. “If that’s so,” spoke Ezam in a very ominous tone, “then I doubt they’d allow me to kill say…that beetle crawling towards us.” Before Meric could turn to see what his brother was talking about, he heard the squish and crunching of what was sure to be a now deceased bolvic beetle. “See, it’s dead and I’m still here. Now come on they’re almost to the entrance of Halen forest.” “You’ll kill harmless deer’s but you won’t cross into the sacred forest? My brother I fear I will never understand you.”
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Posted by Constance on November 13, 2008 at 2:38pm
I am finished with Draft 2 of Coal, which really is just an extended Draft 1. It feels pretty good. It feels damn good!I love nanowrimo, why does it take that month for me to give myself permission to stop worrying about being perfect.I will not let perfection stop me from being good!My plan to edit my baby is as follows.For each section.1. Write what we want to accomplish from beginning to end and determine if I accomplished it2. Is the POv and tense correct through the scene3. Have the setting, details, and time line been clearly established.4. Have the emotions been conveyed???5. Have you used all five senses –sight, touch, sound, taste, noise6. Are there any loose ends?7. Then worry about Style and fluency. I get really hung up on this.Time line:I really want to finish editing by December 31. Is that impossible?But even before I edit I need to grasp a strong hold of my world. I want to veer away from the traditional cookie cutter elves, fairies, and dwarves but I still haven’t created a believable world of my own. I don’t have a clear picture of my fey creatures. It’s like I’m scared to commit. Maybe for this book I should keep with the traditional characters. White elves and faires with tipped ears. The short dwarves. Because then it would make Coal, a Black human stick out.And then I’ll save my twist on the stereotypical fairy creatures for my next book Giants.Any thoughts?
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Into the BreachOnce more into the breach, this darkness comes so swift,Only with the light of truth shall this vale ever lift.The fault of this pain no man does own,For the end of this pain, no mercy is shown.It Lies now broken, this hearts forever dreams,No needles long enough to sew its shattered and torn seams.Once more into the breach, darkness now upon me,I close my eyes and scream these words for all the world to see.No light shines here, to guide safe passage back,For the home of these thoughts is forever filled black.Thoughts not of pain or of sinful dark shame,But thoughts of the past and what may never be again.Thoughts of love and thoughts of peace,Oh what I would give for these thoughts to never cease.But end they shall when the black comes at night,And try as I may, things shall never be set right.Once more through the breach, for the end is soon to come,The darkness that clouds my soul, my heart it has now won.But the lo from the sky, a messenger is sent,In hopes that this transformation to the cold may relent.“Idol of peace, you bird as white as cream,Awake me from this nightmare, remove me from this dream!”With hope guiding its way it makes way through this place,Away parting this fog; shining hope in my face.But it to succumbs to the force of my sorrow filled plight,Gone now is peace, plucked from its merciful flight.Trapped in the breach, shall I never be free?A new mornings dawn, shall I never see?Oh great dove, of Heaven sent mercy,No longer shall your words this day curse me.And lead not my heart into this foul tempting abyss,Let me wander no more in loves painful bliss.No light, no sun only memories now lost,In this sea of hatred forever I now toss.But hate I shall not for this place is my own,This breach in my soul with my hand shall be sewn.For freedom comes not from prayers of inaction,But from the will and mind of the one who has cast them.Life love and the pursuit of joy,Are not playthings meant to be wrestled like a toy.Free from this breach, yet triumphant I am not,My soul weighs now heavy and my heart now taut.Once more I begin my quest for peace,No more shall I question when it is in my reach.MLM
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Forever’s PenanceStricken with grief from a lost loves bittersweet visit,Peace being forsaken as faith leaves with it.Once more down this road with despair at my side,The pain in my heart this time I shall not hide.Why must you leave when you’ve just made your bed?Why can you not stay the night and lay your weary head?This night so familiar, like the setting of the fall,This feeling so new, from my weary eyes heavy tears now crawl.Once more into my heart these daggers now sting,No more in my ears do the bells of bliss ring.“A curse upon your life was given many moons past,Forever this shadow of Penance upon your love shall be cast.”Not a curse of unknown, for your love shall be returned,But last it will not, so long as the world turns.Where can one turn; to whom can one shout?Shall faith be forever spoken with such doubt?Karma speaks to me, of an eye for an eye,Yet this eye sees only a Heaven sent lie.Be gone with this sight, so that love shall not wander my way,And if it comes again, my heart it shall not sway.Be at peace my love, for destiny has chosen you this day fit,Upon a throne of peace and joy may you forever sit.Hold your head high, for your battles are not yet through,The trials of forever shall beckon your heart blue.Hold fast forever to your righteous fury,And never again your beauty should you bury.Peace now my Angel to the end of our days,Blessed be to those whom your light doth gaze.MLM
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A Single TearA single tear is all that I ask,To show that in the end This Too Shall Pass.A Tear to mark the solemn day,That Hell has passed and peace is coming this way.A single tear is all that I pray,To enter your heart on this sorrow filled day.For your blood now runs cold during these trials of life,And your anger cuts through me like a twin sided knife.I feel for your loss more than you know,So this tear I give to you, for my love to show.A single tear is all that I have,But I will give more should you only ask.And let them run from my eyes to my knees,Yet let not one touch the ground should your wishes it not please.Let them gather round low and swirl into a stream,And upon the sight of your face they begin to gleam.Like a moonlit eve, your eyes will wash them away,And set upon my soul forever and always to stay.But no more tears are left to cry,For my eyes are welled up, swollen and dry.But I smile still for my heart is now full,With the thought of you whole and your fire now cool.Peace to this day, for your trials have now ended,Together we shall be, torn together yet mended.MLM
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We hit more targets: a Ziran supply convoy, another arms production complex on another Ziran moon, and a pair of bombardment platforms. The platforms were a prize find. They were en route to a human world to replace the ones we destroyed. One of Vinia’s surveillance probes spotted them when they went into drive just outside the Gatina System in Vingin space. I estimated where those platforms would most likely reappear. Paradyme. It had to be Paradyme. From the platform’s angle of approach in the Gatina System, Paradyme was the nearest human world.I tasked three PCs with the job of taking out the platforms: my own Tantamous, the Congress and the Admiral Hite. Cloaked in stealth, we skirted the asteroid field separating the inner worlds of Paradyme’s star system from its three massive gas giants. I expected the platforms to enter the system, stopping short of the asteroid field. Jasin expected them to have picked up an armed escort along the way. A Sky Mauler, perhaps accompanied by three or four assault frigates.We waited for 49 and a half hours. Suddenly the schematic screen lit up.“Hostiles out of Drive, approaching asteroid belt at maximum sub light propulsion,” reported the sensor tech. “Two platforms, one Sky Mauler capitol ship, four assault frigates, two medium destroyers.”Jasin was on the bridge, standing by the entrance. I turned around and we exchanged smart nods. It turned out our predictions were, for the most part, correct.“Send the Congress and Admiral Hite in first to distract the escorts,” I ordered.Cal opened a channel to the two ships and relayed my command.The visual screen came to life with the images of two warships emerging out of stealth in front of us. On the schematic screen enemy icons veered toward the approaching threat.“Drop the stealth?” Cal asked.I watched the icon representing Tantamous moving closer to the nearest platform. Both vessels continued their course toward the asteroids while the escorts engaged. But the platforms were unaware that a stealth-coated Protector Class was zeroing in on them. I wanted to keep it that way until the last cold second.“Not yet.”The platforms were less than a minute from entering the belt. The Tantamous was closing in fast. The platform in the rear grew larger on the screen as we narrowed the pursuit gap.“Target the rear platform,” I ordered. “No Category As. We need to conserve our stock as best we can. Use short range missiles and point kinetics. Aim for the thrusters.”A glitter of missiles, punctuated by staccato bursts of shield-penetrating, hull- puncturing rounds from point kinetic guns, perforated the platform. The besieged vessel’s thruster housing disintegrated on impact. The entire rear segment of the platform flaked away in a gaseous swell. Massive flares, doused by airless space, erupted from apertures caused by our ferocious missile/kinetic attack. Interior damage must have been devastating. The platform lurched off course, heading toward the nearest asteroid…more like a planetoid. A faint, dying glow issued from the jagged cavern where its thrusters used to be. Once ensnared in the planetoid’s gravity well, with no motive power, the platform’s demise was imminent.More short range missiles from the Tantamous streaked toward the remaining platform, exacerbating irreparable damage, shrouding the vessel in a blazing wreath of destruction.“The Sky Mauler is attempting to intercept us,” said Cal.I switched my attention from the forward view visual to the left angled view at the far upper right corner of the console.The Congress and Admiral Hite were locked in a furious tussle with the Ziran capitol ship. The space between the three close proximity combatants was ablaze with the exchange of missile and beam fire. The assault frigates scurried back and forth peppering the human ships with combustion beams. The smaller destroyers attacked from a relative distance, launching waves of missiles at the PCs. The small Ziran ships, not even a forth the size of a Protector Class, were little more than night flies harassing an armored grub rodent. The ineffectual nature of their attacks was demonstrated in the manner in which their missiles and beams collided harmlessly against the PCs’ variable density shielding.A blue-white streak of death lanced from the Congress striking one of the assault frigates in its smooth underbelly as it made strafing run over the top. The beam evidently penetrated a weak section of the ship, igniting a reactor. One second the frigate was whole, the next it was a seething billow of gas and debris.Someone hissed in savage delight. I was so fixated on the action on the screen that several seconds went by before I realized that ‘someone’ was me. I jerked my attention to the forward screen. An uending hail of kinetics from the Tantamous raked the fleeing platform, shredding its thrusters until their impulse glows faded to black. Ghostly white plumes of atmosphere from breeches in the platform’s upper rear vented with volcanic intensity.“Dammit, incoming!” Shouted the sensor tech. “Sky Mauler missile launch…signatures register as high grade nukes.”That was enough to remind me that I was definitely not a spectator in this affair.The Ziran capitol ship may have been heavily engaged with our PCs, but it still managed to open a window from which to target and lob a few equivalents of Category As right up our asses. I gripped the armrests of my chair tighter than normal as kinetics from our rear guns pulsed in precision waves toward the oncoming missiles. Four missiles were hit, their impact detonations so bright as to strain the optic capacity of the view screen polarizers. The fifth and last missile actually banked, avoiding a file of kinetics that ripped past it.“It adjusted,” whispered Kelte. “The Zirans never deployed missiles like that against the Tacherins!”Cal glanced up at the weapons officer on the high deck to his right.“Switching to dispersal fire pattern,” the boyish looking officer announced without being asked.Kinetics flew toward the remaining missile in a wide arc. The missile zigzagged through this metal gale with a maneuverability rivaling a pilot-operated fighter craft.I didn’t know what to expect. The missile was closing in, seemingly unhindered by the fire directed its way.I inhaled and waited for death.
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This essay on Barack Obama's victory in the presidential election first appeared on the blog at my website, www.charlessaunderswriter.com. I decided to share it with BSFS as well.He did it. He really, really did it. Barack Obama’s victory was not “taken away” at the last minute, as so many of his supporters (myself among them) feared. I have to tell you, though, that as I watched the first returns coming in, with John McCain leading in so many of the states whose polls closed at 6 p.m., I was feeling kind of queasy. I was thinking that I was seeing the “Bradley effect” – in which a black candidate leads in the public-opinion polls but loses in the polling booth – in action.Only when Obama won Pennsylvania and Ohio did I realize that he had put an end to the “Bradley effect.” He was actually going to win! It was just a matter of whether or not he could win in some of the states that were traditional Republican “red states,” especially in the South. I remembered that during the Democratic primaries, Obama won the states in which Republicans usually win in November, while Hillary Clinton won the states that Democrats usually win in November. I was concerned that this would spell trouble for Obama in November, even as he took the nomination away from Clinton – which, in itself, was hardly a small accomplishment, and would ensure that Obama would be more than just a footnote in history even if he lost in November.The question was: could those angry Hillary supporters bring themselves to vote for the man who took the nomination away from her? The polls right after Obama sewed up the nomination didn’t look at all promising. A lot of Hillary supporters were saying they would either vote for McCain or stay home. That reminded me of members of those religious orders in which people whip themselves, or that guy in The Da Vinci Code who wrapped barbed wire around his leg.Happily, that didn’t happen. I think that McCain’s nomination Sarah Palin as his running mate made a lot of those Hillary supporters step back and say, “What is this? Their answer to Hillary? Thanks, but no thanks.” And then, of course, the Wall Street meltdown came, and the Democrats realized that this was one time they had better not snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.I stayed up to watch the confirmation of Obama’s victory, as well as McCain’s concession speech and Obama’s victory speech. I was impressed by the graciousness of McCain’s speech. It was as though he was allowing his true self to show – the self that he allowed his advisers to obscure during the campaign. I wish Al Gore would have won the 2000 election, but if he had to lose, I would rather it had been to the McCain of that time. Not the McCain of the third presidential debate – the one who referred to Obama as “that one.” Anyway, McCain showed a lot of class.So did George Bush, during the speech he made the day after the election. Considering that both candidates were essentially running against his record, Bush was as courteous as he could be under those circumstances.Obama could not have made a better victory speech. He showed why people should support him, even if some of them couldn’t vote for him. His smile reminds me of Nelson Mandela’s – it lights up the room. His voice and speaking style remind me of Martin Luther King Jr.’s – inspirational. Imagine a CD that consisted of King’s “I Have a Dream” speech, followed by Obama’s victory speech. Who could listen to that without being moved? Well, I can think of some people, but I’m trying to be positive here.I’m sure you’ve heard it said again and again, by black people and white people and other people, that they “never imagined that a black person would be elected President of the United States during their lifetime.” Maybe you’ve said it yourself. I know I have. But I don’t think anybody imagined that a game-changer like Obama would have appeared on the scene – someone who added an unprecedented element to the racial scene.How, you ask, is Obama a game-changer? It’s because he’s an African-American who does not carry “The Legacy” with him. I’m talking about the legacy of slavery, which has been a long-term poison in American society. That poison affects blacks and whites alike. I will not call it “baggage,” because that’s an insulting reference. The legacy is at the root of the lingering racism in the United States.Obama is an African-American. But the African part of his heritage is not connected to someone who came to America on a slave ship 200, 300 or 400 years ago. His father was a Kenyan who came to America on a scholarship, not a slave ship. And his mother was a white woman whose parents did not disown her for marrying a black man, as was often the case back when Obama was born.So, this whole sad stew of resentment over who is the grandchild of a slave and who is the grandchild of a slave-owner and who should be exempt from that whole debate because their ancestors had “nothing to do with it” does not apply to Obama. For me, he represents what black Americans could have become a lot sooner if their ancestors had come to the United States as free people, not property.Yet the progress those of us who carry “The Legacy” have made is far from inconsiderable, and it tends to get overlooked because of the unfinished business that “The Legacy” brings with it. I believe that many of the whites who enthusiastically supported Obama were able to do so because when they looked at him and his background, “The Legacy” was not there, and they had no reason to believe he thought he was owed a debt of guilt because of what happened to his ancestors.Ironically, Obama’s lack of “The Legacy” caused a lot of black Americans who do have “The Legacy” to look at him with suspicion. This whole “He’s not black enough” thing was code for “his blues ain’t like mine.” All these people who say that blacks’ 95 per cent vote for Obama is proof of their “racism” conveniently forget that at the start of the campaign two years ago, Hillary Clinton had 70 per cent of black Democrats’ support, and she had the support of most of the Congressional Black Caucus. He had to prove himself to the people who carry “The Legacy,” just as he did with everyone else. He identified himself with people of “The Legacy,” because he sympathized with what was going on in their heads, even though it wasn’t going on in his.Another way that Obama is a “game-changer” is that he’s a one-man “melting pot.” You know how the United States is always saying it’s a “melting pot,” assimilating ethnic minorities into “one nation, indivisible.” Of course, groups such as African Americans and Native Americans wonder why they haven’t “melted” yet. But look at Obama. His father was from Kenya, a part of Africa from which few, if any, slaves were sent to America. His mother was white and from Kansas, and was rooted enough in U.S. history to be able to claim distant kinship with Dick Cheney, of all people. I almost died laughing when Obama cracked a joke about the “black sheep” in the family – meaning Cheney.After divorcing Obama’s father, she married an Indonesian, with whom she had a daughter. So, Obama has a sister who is half-white and half-Asian. His father sired other children in Kenya, so Obama has half-siblings in Africa.Obama’s sister is married to a Chinese-Canadian. Obama himself is married to an African-American who is an heir to “The Legacy,” which is why the Republicans depicted her as an “angry black woman,” and why she made that much-criticized comment about feeling proud of her country for the first time in her life. His wife’s brother is married to a white woman. Not only is Obama a walking “melting pot,” he’s a living United Nations. Not many people could look at his background and not see themselves somewhere.Having said all that, I don’t believe that Obama “transcends” race. If he “transcended” race, he would have won a landslide in the popular vote, including a strong majority of white votes, if not the 95 per cent he got from blacks. He did get a landslide in the Electoral College, though, and that’s historic in itself, and something to be proud of.Obama didn’t transcend race – he overcame it. Especially by winning Virginia, the heartland of the old Confederacy, where statues to Confederate Civil War heroes line the public square of the state capital, Richmond. Of course, now there’s a statue of Arthur Ashe in that square, too, so maybe that was an omen.What Obama accomplished is more than good enough for me. Maybe we’ll transcend race some time in the future, but I’ll take overcoming it any day of the week.Now, Obama created expectations greater than those set by any president since John F. Kennedy, under very different circumstances. I hope he meets them. If he does, then both black and white people in the country of my birth will be able to turn the page on “The Legacy.” That doesn’t mean forgetting it; but it does mean that it will no longer hold such a central position in our hearts and minds – and will cease being such an obstacle to moving forward.When Ronald Reagan was first elected President, he said it was “morning in America.”It wasn’t.Maybe now, it is.
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I’m pleased to announce that on November 2nd, my novel Zahrah the Windseeker won The Wole Soyinka Prize for Literature in Africa!!I posted some pictures and a full account of my trip to Nigeria on my blog at: http://nnedi.blogspot.com/This was truly a journey I'll never forget.Nnedinnedi.comRead more…
My Fellow Americans, As Is it here with true joy in my heart as America elects it’s first black president my eyes have wells up with excitement that which a person rarely sees in life. Barack Obama’s win is not just a win for Barack or a win for Black people, but a win for the American People and all people that have struggled for a just cause. This time is one of the turning points in our evolution as a species another jump in our ability to conquer evil and unjustness as we have done in the past as seen in the 1960s during the civil rights era. This man is but a symbol of what we as a people can become when you do thing s the right and just way, have faith in God and refuse to give up on what is right and good. We can honestly say to our children that they can be anything they set out to be when they grow up when they make the right choices and have God on their side. I am use again optimistic that we all can work together as one to create a more perfect union in this country we cam America. God Bless AmericaRead more…
These are some of the first scifi figures ive seen that really inspire me to want to make art and incorporate "blackness" to it. They are done by a japanese guy called Takayuki Takeya aka "the master". This cat is RAW. For all i know these figures are from a story that is blatantly racist or something, i really dont care tho. Someone could probably look at these and see them as offensive but i get inspired by the strangest things. When i see these i see black people sculpted in a way ive honestly never seen before. I dont know if that speaks to the lack of black representation in the toy/figure industry, or the skill of Takeya.
This guy is japanese and i dont know of any black sculptors outside of the fine art world. If anyone knows of anyone's work and think i might be interested in it please let me know. Im always looking for new artists to look up to and black ones would be particularly cool.
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I just realized that I didn't post this here, so here it is:
I've decided to drop "Mbachu" from my last name (as I've been ecstatically divorced since February '08, :-D). I held on to the name because of my daughter, but it's about time to get rid of it."Okorafor-Mbachu" will appear on the forthcoming paperback of The Shadow Speaker (March). But after that, the name is officially retired (r.i.p.). I'm pleased to say that it will not appear on the cover of Long Juju Man (to be released Feb 6th).From now on, I will go by Nnedi Okorafor, my maiden (and true) name. I'd be highly pleased if you spread the news.Nnedinnedi.comRead more…
