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Reverse Phonics started out as a good idea but......

Posted by Raymond Murray on September 11, 2009 at 1:51pm

I realized how hard it would be for some people to pronounce ----plus it really doesnt fit with my story direction so i just might scratch that idea all together

Goals

Posted by MariesDaughter on September 10, 2009 at 11:00pm

My blog is mainly over at LiveJournal, but perhaps I should double post here:Did I finish a story for workshop? Yes, I made my goal. A bit late. And it means that I didn't log on to "work" work tonight. But it was emailed out to members. Now I guess that I have to do real work. And think of another story.

Black Jack - A Drama of Magic, Mystery, and Legerdemain

Posted by george patton on September 8, 2009 at 4:12pm

Wanted to let all the denizens of Black Sci-Fi SOCIETYknow that my novel is Now available on iUniverse.com AMAZON AND Barnes&Noble in 2 wks!I am excited to get this love story out: truly one of the greatest untold dramas of the 20th Century. I say this not because they are my relatives. Black Hermanis described by history books as the "first black superstar of magic". Eva, the "Woman Buried Alive"was his femme fatale, able to perform any trick hecould devise. Rising with Resplendence! I am grateful that I completed the telling of their saga in her lifetimeEva turned 110 this year! There is a reason!

Penn Ave Mail Center Book Signing Appearance.

Posted by Barry K. Nelson on September 7, 2009 at 7:41pm

Everyone is invited to come down to the Penn Ave Mail Center in East Liberty for my 3rd book signing appearance. The Mail Center is located in the Village of the Eastside Plaza, 6393 Penn Ave. It's run by two friends of mine, Kirstin and Clarence Womack, who's business offer a variety of mail delivery services. So remember the day and time. Saturday, September 12. Time: 10:00 A.M to 1:00 P.M. And for those of you who live outside the Pitsburgh PA area, far outside, I suggest either Greyhound bus or U.S. air.

Rosedust - Supernatural flash fiction...

Posted by Larry Winfield on September 6, 2009 at 11:10pm

Rosedusti like the dark, it's friendlyi am the darkhiding in dreams is exquisitehiding in his dreamswas the only way to keep him.She strolls in a garden at sunset, a walking, vibrating shadow. Her long robe made no sound, did not catch on the rose thorns she passed. Her bare feet rested on unbent blades of grass as she stopped before a perfect blossom, one of many on a waist- high bush. Her robe opened as she bent closer to it, almost brushing her nipples against the petals. Cupping the bloom in her hands, she whispered its name, watched as the entire plant shriveled, withered, sighed its death, root and all flowing up from the soil that closed up smooth and undisturbed at her feet. All but the flower she held, now impossibly beautiful. She touched it to her lips and it sighed into reddish dust, clinging lightly to her fingers, face and neck as she inhaled. She walked to a far corner of the garden, stepping through a shadow on an ivy-covered brick wall.She returned to his dreams, to the room she made, where a baby laughed and played amid huge golden pillows, gurgling and squealing in delight as she entered. She walked softly, floating over the cushions, settling beside him. She lightly rubbed the dust from her fingers over his face, breathing little clouds around him, his reddish-brown now redder still. She removed the robe and suckled him, smiling as stubby fingers and wet cheeks smeared red over her dark chocolate nipple.Smiles became cooing, teeth replaced gums, stubby fingers lengthened, he warmed to her caresses. Cooing erupted into moans, suckling spilled over into tonguing, lips playing, from one nipple to the other, a soft beard smearing red between them. Lips finding her neck, then her mouth, greedy tongues sliding together. The blackness drained from two hairs at her temple. Laugh lines and crows' feet creased into her face. She slid a moist red hand between them, grasped him gently, guided him inside.She shuddered, gasped, tightened and released until they found a slow, easy rhythm. The lines in her face smoothed, disappeared; the hairs stayed white, joining the already scattered salting at both temples. Inside the room, now full of shallow breathing and muffled squeals, they danced the song of life; outside, in his dreams, the man danced with death alone. An arrow piercing a buffalo soldier's neck. An infidel run through by a Crusader's broadsword. A tailgunner riddled with bullets, then blasted out of his B-17. A child playing, caught in the second sunrise over Hiroshima. Death after death roared through, quick and slow, peaceful and hideous, crashing. Inside the room each violent death made her spasm, clutching him ever tighter. The last annihilation consumed them both, waves of orgasms pounding, roaring.He never said a word; he never would in here, she knew. In here where he'll always be the gurgling baby boy she should have taken. She thought of that day, watching it play out in a corner of the room. An intensive-care maternity ward; a beautiful late spring day. She stood in a corner all that day and watched him, recalling the many children she'd taken by the hand through sickness, bad parents, bad neighborhoods, bad luck, so many never got to make ripples, and now this one, trapped in withdrawal, waiting for her touch. Looking so much like the child she would never have.When only one nurse was left to watch him she glided over to him, ready to reach past the tubes, wires, and monitors and take his brittle shaking head in her hands. She stopped, because he stopped trembling, opening his sweet, watery, tortured eyes, and smiled. The nurse thought it was for her and began crying: I knew it was for me, she thought. She ran from the room, hurried down the halls, trying not to pass through or brush patients or staff, touching some and giving chills, stepped through the cinder- block walls to the blazing daylight, floated toward it, then fled into a shadowed alcove behind the hospital, passed through shadows into secluded gardens and greenhouses until she found one bathed in first light, took an orchid, called it by name and breathed its life into the boy's sweet brittle soul. When he was strong enough, she entered his dreams, found him there floating and happy. She made a room there, filled it with pillows, brought him to it, suckled him, vowed to only bring him roses each day.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~She stands in a meadow aglow with ambient light, surveying the green expanse bereft of flowers, swathed in an aura of white from the hair on her head, brows, lashes, arms and legs, platinum curls around her tunnels of light. No more days, she sighed.Her regular duties - wars and riots, disputes and accidents - kept her from him more and more often, for days on end at times, but were not counted. Those were migraine days, toothache, sprain and backache days. She'd search for whatever roses she could find then: splattered, crushed, even orphaned petals, anything to ease the discomfort of his normal life. Anything to push the horrors back into his dreams when they made love, but no more. One month past a century and no more days.Her aura began to shine. She stepped forward through sunlight into a dark bedroom where he slept soundlessly. Still has his hair and teeth, she murmured, smiling. She entered his dreams where he stood in a meadow aglow with ambient light, a meadow covered in roses. She walked toward him unclothed, carrying a gurgling baby and a single orchid outlined against chocolate skin sheathed in light.Smiling, she took his hand, wrapped her fingers around his hand and the flower, crushing it between them, offered a breast to infant and old man. Gasped as they suckled, as the three were slowly consumed in the expanding aura, flesh and shadow, the green field, the expanse of rosesC. 1999, Larry Winfield.

The Story of Eve/A War from Within (con't)

Posted by Valjeanne Jeffers on September 6, 2009 at 3:00pm

"I feel that for White American to understand the significance of the [Negro Problem] . ..will take a bigger and tougher America that we have ever known... Our too-young America lusty because it is lonely, aggressive because it is afraid, insists upon seeing the world in terms of good and bad, the holy and the evil...the white and the black; our America is frightened of fact, of history...Therefore if within the confines of its present culture, the nation ever seeks to purge itself of its color hate, it will find itself at war with itself..." Richard Wright (1993) from Black Boy (American Hunger) (pp. 320-323).Our journey will take us into the midst of this war. The 1940s is the era of the New Negro. It is the era of the Black and White woman. But repression of Native Americans is in full force. Repression of Peoples of Latino descent has been renewed. There is war raging upon American soil -- one which has never really ended. The dynamics of sex, race and class are in furious dialogue upon the Silver Screen. Let us go into the midst of this conflict.Before American entered WWII in 1941 it was taboo for married women to work. This doesn't mean that they weren't working (by 1940 six out out of seven married women were employed) it was just taboo for them to do so. The cult of domesticity had endured: the mantra that a woman's proper place was in the kitchen, the nursery and the bedroom.But In 1941, American attitudes changed, seemingly overnight. Suddenly it became women's -- married or not-- patriotic duty to work. Men were being drafted by the thousands. Factories needed warm bodies to make bombs, guns, uniforms -- and they weren't picky about whose. As White women filled "men's professions" the so-called "women's jobs" opened up and Black women stepped up to the plate.It was during the WWII era that the so called "Problem Films" emerged: movies which made an effort to critique racism. How did Black women fare in these movies? Generally Black men were much more visible than women. Hollywood thrived upon sexism. And so it is no surprise that when the dream weavers began to depict racism they would ignore African American women. Yet two actresses did manage to break from the usual: Lena Horne and Hazel Scott.A proud and demanding performer, Hazel Scott was one of the first Black artists who refused to appear before a segregated audience (Bogle, 1973). She also refused to play a role in a film, well aware, as she informed Ebony in 1944 that Black women were often cast as maids or whores (Bogle, 1973). Instead she always appeared in movies seated at the piano just as she would be in a nightclub (Bogel, 1973). The dream weavers soon realized they'd bitten off than they could chew with Sister Hazel and her film career ended almost as quickly as it had begun (mid-forties).Lena became a star during the WWII era playing in classics like Cabin in the Sky and Stormy Weather. But Hollywood just couldn't seem to create a decent image for her -- what a surprise! Cabin the Sky, for instance, a popular Black musical is at its bare essence just more trouble in Black Eden jive, with Lena as the sexy mistress, Ethel Waters: the long suffering wife, and Eddie Anderson: the weak willed Black man.For the most part, women were thrust back into the twisted heart of film mythology. Film women of the 1940s were diabolical, double-crossing, murderous and very, very powerful. The curtain was pulled back to reveal Woman in all her splendor and wickedness.Even wives became "bitches" during the 1940s. Women and marriage were depicted in films as symbolic of everything the hero was on the run from: society, children, community (Woods, 1975). It was Woman who trapped the hero and made him give up his freedom. Thus during the 1940s, Hollywood really had a damned if you do, damned if you don't motif firmly in place. Men and women had two choices: be miserable together or be miserable apart.Mary was gone now. And Eve was large and in charge.Valjeanne Jeffers-ThompsonValjeanne Jeffers Copyright 1997, 2009 all rights reserved

The Story of Eve/The Sexy Twenties (con't)

Posted by Valjeanne Jeffers on September 5, 2009 at 6:30pm

"Gee Brown boy/I loves you all over...Take my hand and I will read you poetry...Fill your throat up with laughter and your heartwith song..."Harlem Renaissance poet Helene Johnson (Giddings, 1988; p.185).The first Black screen goddess, Nina McKinney, made her debut as "Chick" in King Vidor's musical Hallelujah (1929). Hallelujah took as its theme the age-old problem of the good colored boy gone bad and the battle between the callings of the spirit and the temptations of the flesh (Bogle, 1973; p. 29).The film opens on the idyllic little Johnson farm, where the family -- Pappy Johnson,Mammy, their adopted daughter, Missy Rose, their eldest son Zeke, and their youngerboys -- energetically gather the cotton harvest. Nearing the last rows the group burstinto song, singing to the heavens...Good gentle folk, the Johnsons are pictured as sereneand uncomplicated -- as long as their baser instincts are keep in check. When these areunleashed, however, trouble's a -brewin'! (Bogle, 1973; p. 29).Director's King Vidor’s portrayal of Black folks was both racist and sexist. And the characters he portrayed in Hallelujah were depictions not based on real people -- but hallucinations based upon his fantasies. Thus their problems did not spring from oppression, but from their own animal instincts gone awry.This same surrealistic approach was used to create "Chick" -- a character conjured from Vidor's imaginings. She was his dark meat fantasy. Vidor would pull this same stunt with Native American women in Duel in the Sun (1946) -- branded in “Lust in the Dust” by facetious film critics. For Vidor women, sexual women -- and by definition this meant any woman of color -- were the embodiment of evil and the foil of mankind: the gateway that opened the door to mankind's base instincts.Chick is trouble in paradise. She is Vidor's dark Eve.Chick is a liar and a cheat. She is also a mulatto and thus a woman at war with herself. Her white half represented her spiritual aspect, the black half the animalistic side of her nature (Bogle, 1973). Against Chick's simmering sexuality Vidor placed Hallelujah's good girls: Zeke's childlike asexual true love Missy Rose, and American mythology’s own special blend of mother-virgin, Mammy; who is also asexual. Everyone even her man, calls her "Mammy."African American and White liberal critics did not take kindly to Vidor's portrayal of Black folks. One letter to the editor of a Black paper charged that Vidor's "filthy hands were reeking with prejudice" (Leab, 1975; p. 93). Another writer referred to the movies insulting "niggarisms" (Leab, 1975; p.93).Tragically, King Vidor's intention was to create a film that would dramatically break from Hollywood's mythology of Black Americans. Yet Hallelujah was little more than a remake of Birth of a Nation with Chick starring as the uppity negress.As the British critic John Grierson later remarked: "I note from a publicity puffthat King Vidor freed the Negro from misunderstanding just as Abe Lincolnfreed him from slavery. Both statements are exaggerated" (Leab. 1975; p. 93).Copyright Valjeanne Jeffers-Thompson 1997Valjeanne Jeffers 2009 all rights reserved

The Story of Eve pt 6/The Sexy Twenties

Posted by Valjeanne Jeffers on September 5, 2009 at 11:30am

"The key is in remembering what is chosen for the dream. In the silence of recovery we hold the rituals of dawn..." Paula Gunn Allen, Laguna Pueblo and Sioux writer (Amott and Matthaie, 1991 p. 61)"The business of films is the business of dreams..."Michael Woods (1975) American in the Movies (p. 16)Mary Pickford was Lillian Gish's successor and she soon became a star playing childlike, plucky virgins (Leish, 1974). Pickford stared in such nauseating family classics as Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm and Poor Little Rich Girl. At the opposite end of the purity spectrum stood Theda Bara, who made her debut on the silver screen as a sexual vampire in A Fool There Was.Native Americans also made their debut on screen shortly before the 1920s: as savages attacking White women and helpless settlers in covered wagons. Of course these weren't real Indians -- they were White actors in red face. And they appeared in films just as the radial Pan Indian movement of the 1920s was taking shape. Draw your own conclusions about this "coincidence." Native Americans had drawn attention to the kidnapping of their children, as well as reservation disease and poverty (Amott & Matthaie, 1991). And by 1928, Senate investigations were being conducted.Yet as films edged into the 1920s, a curious thing happened. The dream weavers got raw: the 1920s has been described as one of the most liberated eras in film history. Let's just take a peek shall we?Enter "Flappers:" wild, young women who liked living on the edge. Flappers drank liquor from silver flasks, rode with young men in fast cars, and had sex -- and plenty of it. OK what's the catch? Did Flappers die in car crashes or wind up in poverty? Or were they cruel monsters like Bara who sucked the life from men? The answer is none of the above.And Hollywood didn't stop there. The dream weavers began to portray unfaithful wives in movies such as Male and Female, Three Weeks and Don't Change Your Husband. In these films sex-starved wives had affairs because they weren't receiving satisfaction at home (Leish, 1974; pp.45-54). Even more amazing they were depicted as perfectly justified (Leigh, 1974)!What on earth was going on? The answer lies in the economy which was booming. World War I was only recently over, and the war had generated jobs for everyone. The Great Migration (1910-1930) had already begun and Black folks were leaving the South in droves to escape poverty and racism. After WWI Black folks -- last hired first fired -- especially Black women began to lose their jobs. White folks however did not (Giddings, 1988).Films were reflecting this zeitgeist in their generous attitude towards White women: a generosity which would end during the Great Depression and infamous 1930 Production Code. American films would witness two more similar transformations during the 1940s and the 1960s.The catch was that Hollywood's portrayal of Peoples of Color hadn't changed a bit -- except for the depiction of Black sexuality on the Silver Screen -- a depiction colored by racism. As history tells us where there is slavery for some, there can only be so much freedom for others. It wouldn't take Hollywood long to begin demonizing White women. But for the time being they were free.And the first Black love goddess made her debut.Copyright Valjeanne Jeffers-Thompson 1997, 2009 all rights reserved.

Backstory...

Posted by Larry Winfield on September 2, 2009 at 4:17am

Ok, I just put the website badge on my bookpage, so now's a good time to introduce myself and my little project.My Sci-Fi/Erotic Horror/Neo-Southern Gothic Fable Banjo Strings is the opening movement in an ongoing, real time, participatory literary experiment - The Writing Process as Performance Art. I say 'experiment' because I'm breaking damn near every publishing industry rule in the process.Backstory:I moved to LA from Chicago in 2002. In 2005 I stumbled across the world of podcasting, which appealed to my pirate radio sensibilities, so I began to produce a weekly show. The next year I took one of my ideas for a novel and that November, with foolhardy gusto, I dived into National Novel Writing Month. After the end of the month, I had 10 chapters written, and was gonna buckle down and grind out the rest of the book, but in December I discovered the existence of podcast novels, and I was a podcaster, so I downshifted to novel -in-progress.In January 2007, I released the first two chapters of the novel. As of Sept. 2nd, 20 chapters can be heard, along with parts 1 and 2 of Chapter 21 (I'm writing parts 3, 4 and 5 right now).So far, from the raw numbers, I've estimated that over 5,000 people have 'laid eyes' on my book (read an excerpt or listened to at least one chapter), and over 3000 have 'read' a third or more of the book. The interesting thing is that normally a writer NEVER gets this kind of general statistical information or feedback on a book while it's being written, and edited, and revised in real time. The experience of having an audience along for the ride in itself is a trip.Now that I'm near the end of the book, I have thought more of the tired-ass dichotomy SF writers with a little extra melanin get caught up in, but I hope my story is interesting enough to cut through. I'll pontificate on that in another post...

CHAMPION - CHAPTER 4

Posted by Derrick S. Brown on September 1, 2009 at 8:18am

Chapter 4There was a stillness, immeasurable, dark, silent.The void between galaxies appeared to be just what people presupposed, an almost infinite expanse, the dark reaches of the universe separating the oases of galaxy from galaxy. However, that was quite simply the point. The order wrought from chaos gives the universe the appearance of such symmetry, but what is out of place, hidden or otherwise, more often than not makes its presence known. The void between galaxies has never been, nor will it ever be, empty. There is matter there, things exists … some of these things are alive, after a fashion. And some of them, some of them simply cannot be explained.In the silence there was a tumult, a slight vibration, a disruption, a cosmic distortion, best described as an anomaly. The silence of the great black expanse was vast, and few things living in this area of space had the ability, or will, to monitor, or traverse the great vastness. Only one cognitive sense of perception noted the strange anomaly. An eye saw it, one of the oldest in this part of the cosmos. It belonged to a being of vast intelligence, ancient and far beyond the mere matters of mortals.One eye of energy opened in the darkness, its brilliance illuminating its husk, and the many tendrils attached. It moved towards the anomaly, which wasn’t yet visible to primitive eyes. This being placed its origin within the Great Majestic, the Great Galaxy in Andromeda. It, and its kin had long since departed beyond the galactic rim, leaving the Majestic’s destiny to younger races.Yet, now these races were no longer young. They had eons of history behind them. Those that were old enough, and of them there were very few, would have noted the emergence of the being’s eye, its large husk, and wispy tendrils. Once, this form was much smaller, and walked on worlds. Denizens of the Majestic would have called it a Space God, an ancient being long since evolved beyond the veil. And, as the Space God woke to the increasing vibration in the emptiness, two of the Majestic’s mightiest sentients, the Narellans and the Zradgen, noted its eye.Powerful sensors from different zones of the Majestic’s galactic rim collected voluminous amounts of data. Knowledge engines analyzed the data and displayed both raw, and scrutinized data to sensor analysts. Artificial Intelligences gave suppositions on what might be occurring in the emptiness based on data provided by local datawells, data that extended back in time several millennia. Commanders were notified. Ships were dispatched to investigate. High priority communications were sent to the requisite governments. Actions were initiated.The anomaly in the Great Expanse increased in amplitude. The Ancient One, the Space God, communicated in its own esoteric fashion with its kin. Narellan and Zradgen sensors watched as the Space God came fully awake, and instantly moved several parsecs away from the anomaly, somehow under its own physical power, violating the laws of causality, and traveling in real space faster than the speed of light. Sensors tracked trace tachyons, and recorded the momentous event of a portal opening ahead of the Ancient One.In historical records, Ancient Ones were known to be able to traverse hyperspace at heretofore unknown levels, unaided by any artificial means, such as a space ship.They watched as the Space God entered the portal. Powerful sensor detected eyes, thousands of eyes, just like the god’s inside the portal, or rather just the other side of the gate, for they could not tell where, or when was the opening in space beyond the thousand eyes on the event horizon. Then, it vanished. The Ancient One was gone. All that was left was the anomaly, to which their sensors quickly became attuned.Powerful ships were still on approach to the anomaly when it pulsed, energy and matter exploding into space from seemingly nowhere. The area was doused with energy, which erupted across several frequencies. Sensors were overpowered, shutting down after reaching their thresholds. The ships held position, their occupants staring at the sight of the eruption, witnessing what looked like nothing less than the instant birthing of a new vibrant blue and white star.Communications between ships on both sides increased ten-fold. Sensors interrogated the new star intensely. Then, the sensors of the opposing vessels increased their scans of each other. Messages were sent, along with observational data. They knew what this new star was, what it represented. The question now was, what is to be done. Both sides knew the answer.The posturing began.“Weapons activation, sir,” said the First Level Senseman, of the Narellan cruiser Namosen.The Narellans were humanoids of a distinctive avian/mammalian descent, brown skin over a thin body frame, average height of six feet. The skin covered a vestigial beak, which barely broke through the flesh on their face. Below it, a very humanoid looking mouth. Plumage of varying colors grew on their heads, wrists, legs, and the center of their chests, which was hidden beneath their uniforms.“The Zradgen are doing no more than we ourselves,” said the commander of the Namosen, staring at the holographic image rotating in front him. “I’m more interested in the anomaly.”“The Kha’ahmpion, you mean,” corrected the Scienceman.“I’m not a mystic,” said the Commander.“Neither am I, sir,” said the Scienceman. “Nevertheless, we know there are some things that defy our knowledge. Things that our historical datawells have fully categorized, but not fully understood. Things like this new star, which by the way seems to be shrinking.”“Shrinking?”“I confirm,” said the Senseman. “It is roughly half the size it was initially.”“Can’t easily tell, it’s so bright. Analysis?”“Inconclusive,” said the Scienceman, studying his console. “The Kha’ahmpion appears to be consolidating. It’s continuing to shrink.”“Current distance?” asked the Commander.“Three extets,” said the Senseman, which was roughly three parsecs, or 191,800,000,000,000 miles.“Move us closer,” said the Commander. “Increase speed to one-fifth.”“One-fifth, sir,” the Flightman accelerated the cruiser’s speed to one-fifth its full capacity in normal space, or subspace, which was still quite fast.The Commander leaned forward in his chair. “Increase the analysis factor.”“The Shipmind has harnessed as much thought-power as it can,” said the Scienceman.“No new results?”“None,” said the Scienceman, a bit sarcastically. He and the Commander were old friends.The Commander’s dark eyes became irritated slits. “So what are we supposed to do?” He asked of no one in particular.“Well,” offered the Scienceman. “Historical records speak of what should happen following a Kha’ahmpionic appearance. In time it should—”“Enemy fire,” interrupted the Second-Level Senseman. “I’ve got pulse blasts from the lead Zradgen ship across the board, designate A1.”“Full alert,” said the Commander, calmly. “Shields. Weaponsman, give me a lock on that cruiser, and plot a wide area solution for its support vessels. Comman, tell our vessels to stand clear.“Yes, sir,” said the Weaponsman.“I suppose it was too much to ask them to remain quiet in the face of a galactic anomaly not seen for eons,” said the Commander.“Guess so,” said the Scienceman.“Still, we have the edge in this sector of the rim. We’ll clean them up, and get back to following the anomaly.”“Kha’ahmpion,” corrected the Scienceman.The Commander chuckled. “Excuse me, Kha’ahmpion.”“Sir!” said the Second-Level Senseman. “I’m getting several contacts, hyperspace signatures, openings all over.”The Commander hid his surprise. “Plot them Senseman, where and how many.”“Sir, sir,” the senseman said, nervously. “They’re all around us, sir. Zradgen contacts, fifteen, twenty, forty five, sectors alpha through zeta. We’re surrounded!”“Flightman, evasive maneuvers,” said the Commander. “All thought-power to engines and weapons. Weaponsman, open plot, fire for affect. Comman, open a channel to the fleet.”The Commander continued to issue orders as the mighty vessel changed course in the emptiness of space. The ship’s support vessels peeled away, some moving in concert with the cruiser, others plotting their own vectors out of the way of the Zradgen onslaught.“Done, sir,’ said the Comman.“Fleet, this is the Commander. Suddenly our mission has gone from one of observation to defense. Break the rearward action of the Zradgen fleet, away from the Kha’ampion. Fly into the wake of their hyperspace gates, and make for the Majestic at speed. That is all. May the Gods keep you.”“Incoming, sir,” said the Senseman. “Missiles, anti-matter.”“What?” The Commander looked at his holographic plot, and saw the squared bulk of a Zradgen battleship emerge from hyperspace, launching high-speed missiles at his vessel.“All power to shields,’ he commanded. “All hands, brace for impact!”“This isn’t looking so good,” said the Scienceman.The commander frowned. “I know.” He paused, taking a deep breath as he watched the graphical plots of the missiles get closer and closer to his ship. “Comman, activate the alpha emergency beacon, full data download.”“Yes sir,” said the Comman.The Comman passed his hands over two controls on his console, activating the beacon that would forego their local starbase, and traverse the dangers of hyperspace level ten, reaching Narella almost instantaneously.The bridge of the cruiser was filled with white light. Everyone on board held on for dear life, which most of them knew would not be for much longer. The ship shuddered, as defensive shields tried to withstand the massive force of matter colliding with antimatter, bathing the Narellan ship with a horrible torrent of energy.The ship lasted just long enough. Before it disintegrated, the last image its sensors recorded was the Kha’ahmpion, shrinking to one one-thousandth of its original size, and in a burst of energy, flying off across the vastness of the Great Expanse, towards the galaxy humans call, the Milky Way.The fiery star, the Kha’ahmpion, barreled across the Great Expanse, tearing and gashing at reality along the way. It violated the laws of causality haphazardly, continuously accelerating, attaining velocities far in excess of the speed of light. Its wake somehow repaired the damage caused by the its passing.The Kha’ahmpion’s flight was monumental. Of the local sentients only the Narellan and Zradgen were able to keep watch. They spread the word to their respective allies, and soon the entirety of the Majestic was in alarm.However, in realms unobserved and undetectable by mortal sensors, Ancient Ones, Space Gods, kept the vigil, watching the Kha’ahmpion as if looking at a baseball flying by a window. They watched the fiery star traverse the Great Expanse, shrinking as it went, shedding energy. It was this energy that repaired reality as it dissipated. The only thing that remained of its passing was an invisible trail of disrupted subatomic particles. In the perceived emptiness of the Great Expanse, to someone properly equipped, these trace particles were like a road left in the Kha’ahmpion’s wake.The star continued to accelerate, faster, faster, and faster still. It was magnificent. It crossed the Great Expanse. It crossed the galactic rim of the Milky Way. Only then, did it finally begin its deceleration. It bled energy in explosive gouts and spurts. It slowed, but its vector never wavered. On it flew, entering a small star system just on the outskirts of the galaxy, in a quadrant whose sentients were young, few having achieved spaceflight.Of these races only one had the capability to detect the Kha’ahmpion’s energy, which as suddenly as it appeared on their sensors, vanished. It was as if the Kha’ahmpion somehow knew it had been seen. It could avoid the detection of younger races, but in its radical, natural state, it was hard pressed to avoid the prying eyes of ancient races.The Kha’ahmpion flew on, as if on a mission of desperation. It bled still more energy, shrinking smaller, and smaller. I dampened itself to the point of complete invisibility.It passed through the star system’s Oort cloud, home to comets, a gathering of water, methane, ammonia, rock, and dust. It continued onward, passing the orbits of twenty different planets, planets that lie within the Kuiper Belt, an area of controversy among scientist of this star system’s third planet. There they asked the question, “does the solar system have ten planets? Hey, it could even have twenty.”Onward.It streaked passed the orbits of Pluto, Neptune, and Uranus. It did a close fly by of the planet Saturn, and it bled more energy, feeding the gas giant a morsel of its near infinite power. Below perception it shrunk, flying onward, seemingly vanishing from this plane of existence. But it remained, a cosmic anomaly, a time/space protuberance. Its totality flew on by Jupiter, through the asteroid belt, into what human beings called the inner Solar System.On it flew, passing wondrous red Mars.As it passed the Martian orbit its destination was finally perceived, a blue green orb, ripe with possibility, infinite possibility. Of course, this must be so, for even though the reasoning of a galactic force of nature was beyond the understanding of mortals, the question of why the Kha’ahmpion would choose a tiny planet in an insignificant solar system, residing in the spiral arm of a quiet quadrant of an unimportant galaxy had to be answered by the indication that here was greatness. Here, was the future. Here, was hope.The Kha’ahmpion approached the blue green planet, nearly coming to a stop. In the upper atmosphere it hovered, directly over its intended target. It found him. One sentient in all the universe, a human being, a denizen of Earth.

preliminary cover of my forthcoming adult novel, Who Fears Death

Posted by Nnedi Okorafor on August 30, 2009 at 7:00am

This is the preliminary cover for my forthcoming adult novel, Who Fears Death.

My favorite parts are the vulture (my main character Onyesonwu has a...special relationship with vultures), the colors and Onyesonwu’s stance. The story takes place in the desert region of a specific part of Africa in the future. Oh and yes, her light skin tone is totally accurate, as is her African hair. ;-). The designers at DAW hit it all right on the nail. Bravo!

Who Fears Death

Scheduled for release June 10, 2010

from DAW Books

David Anthony Durham, award-winning author of Acacia, said this about Who Fears Death: "Nnedi Okorafor has embarked on a rather stunning literary journey. In several wonderful novels and short stories, she has tapped into diverse traditions that date back into the dawn of humanity’s first storytelling ventures. She uses this material toward a forward-looking complexity that, I believe, predicts the coming face of global speculative fiction. Her latest novel for adults, Who Fears Death, is urgently topical, at times brutal, and always wholly original."

The Critical Thinker’s Response to The Five Freedoms You’d Lose In Health Care Reform

Posted by Derrick S. Brown on August 24, 2009 at 7:00am

The Critical Thinker’sResponse toThe Five Freedoms You’d Lose In Health Care ReformByD.S. Brown

The assertion is there are Five Freedoms we will lose under ObamaCare. As an aspiring critical thinker that clearly understands the need for health care reform now, I recognize and understand the need for rich dialogue, and heated debate. Still, as heated as the debate may be, it must be focused on the critical disparities, the points that divide us, with both parties leaning into positive conflict, in order to define a solution that might not satisfy all, but still gets the job done for most. We need health reform now, as opposed to some time later in the future, perhaps far in the future when getting it done becomes a nationalized industry wide tragedy that will place the fate of the entire country on a precipice poised for doom. Of course, in this doom scenario I am employing my imagination to maximum effect. However, despite my unchecked mental flights of fancy, there is still a very real chance of running into a national tragedy if we don’t address health care soon. As such, I felt obligated to read this article and then write a critical response. As a common American aspiring to be a strong critical thinker I feel not only qualified, but obligated to write a response. All Americans should be active. We all should be engaged. We all should aspire to be critical thinkers.Before we begin, before we delve deep, let me clearly state my approach by sharing my favorite quote, coined by me:“The path to wisdom is brightly illuminated by the light of perspective.”I divined this quote some time ago as I continued down my critical thinking path of discovery and growth, seeking to achieve my own personal Critical Success. And what is critical success? For those that don’t know, let me clearly define it:Critical Success is the planned achievement of something urgent and essential utilizing careful planning and judgment for the express purpose of attaining personal prosperity.This is Critical Success. So why is it important to consider my quote, and my definition of Critical Success in this, the critical issue of our time, health care reform? Please allow me to explain. In driving towards achieving Critical Success I find that I must approach all activities from the perspective of one that thinks, one that questions, one that makes informed decisions, decisions based on prevailing facts, and careful reasoning. This is critical to me personally in regard to health care reform. My plan to achieve Critical Success involves the establishment of F-PEC in my life, and for my family.What is F-PEC?F-PEC is Fundamental Personal Economic Control. I’m a fiscal conservative and a social liberal. I must utilize critical thinking skills to divine my path through both these personal mandates. They are not mutually exclusive. In fact, they are intimately bound, when one considers a personal situation critically. How do I reconcile the two? Simple, I know that I must be a master of the wealth that I generate through my personal effort.I must manage it wisely, invest it wisely, and most importantly spend it wisely. I exercise 3POP, The Three Principles of Prosperity, and what are they? One must own real estate, one most invest in the capital markets, and one must try entrepreneurship. In America one can readily pursue all three. However, even if you are not the kind of individual to own and effectively manage a business, you can, and must adhere to the first two tenets of the 3POP rule. You must invest, and you must own property. Not mentioned in the rule directly, but implied nonetheless, you must save your money in order to execute these activities.Of course, if you mismanage your money, spending it on the floss and flash, and then add crushing credit debt on top of it … well, I don’t think I need to clarify that this is a recipe for disaster and a sincere barrier to achieving Critical Success. However, in life, there are those things that one can only mitigate, that we can and must try to manage, but sometimes are completely out of our control. Many of us view health care from this perspective. We can’t afford it, so we simply don’t get it. And if we do get it, it is painfully destructive to our monthly budgets, so much so that even those of us that practice aggressive F-PEC must shudder, and monthly dream of new ways to cut our healthcare costs, usually to no avail.As part of my family’s financial plan I must take into account health care. I’ve watched my premiums increase over the last ten years from $5 to $35. I took my daughter to the doctor last Friday. She apparently had been a bit rough at daycare. My little girl as a wanna be daredevil, which scares the living daylights out of me. When we picked her up we noticed she was sore around the rib cage just underneath her left shoulder. She howled like a banshee whenever I pressed under her arm to pick her up.In seconds my wife, my mother, and my child were loaded in our 4-Runner and flying to Children’s Medical. The doctor examined my little angel, and recommended X-Ray scans. Needless to say this was very unpleasant. Still, according to the technician my baby’s howling was minor compared to most. As we went through this exercise the last thing that was on my mind was cost. My child’s health is not a negotiating point, it’s not something to be compromised. Providing my family superior service and care is not debatable. My wrath, though tempered by age, has always been something cold, terrible, and quite dangerous. Critical thinking be damned all to hell if you threaten my own. I was once upon a time considered jubilantly insane, and completely without limits. Of course, age and the pursuit of wisdom weans one of younger indulgences. However, the tendency, and the requisite ability to behave in said manner still remains.My friends, it is not about profits … not from my perspective, especially not when you’re in the middle of a medical crisis, and I’m quite willing to bet that you and all your friends share my perspective.The X-Rays will be around $75. Our co-pay for the visit was $45. I just went to the doctor two weeks prior, and surprisingly enough I found out I had to pay my own lab-work. Two years ago my insurance covered my lab-work. Now, they apparently don’t, or only pay some of it. I was so disgusted I tossed the bill. I didn’t thoroughly interrogate it, at least not yet. However, I will read every detail and balance back against our policy before paying. Did I mention the bill was for $120? Money is no object when it comes to taking care of my family, but what about the things I can’t afford? What about the families that can’t make ends meet, and stomach the almost $400 per paycheck I was paying twice a month before getting on my wife’s insurance.Hmmm, another did I mention moment.Did I mention the attendant at Children’s medical, a very, very nice woman who was quite attentive didn’t have health care insurance? Did I mention this? Everyone at the facility gave us OUTSTANDING service. You could tell how much they really cared. They looked tired, their movements were indicative of stress, wear and tear, but you had to pay attention to really notice just how weary they were. I did indeed notice, but still they smiled. Still they were professional. Still they were helpful, and they treated my daughter like the little princess she is. All this service, and no health care; she said it was simple. She said it with a smile. She couldn’t make ends meet with her family expenses, and include health care. This was a woman working in the health care field, who could not afford health care. Instead, she would rely on our current Universal Healthcare model, also known as Emergency Room Primary Care Physician, or Medicaid Clinic care, all subsidized by the taxpayer … rife with excess and waste.We need change.The time is now.However, if you listen to the detractors, those that stand happily opposed to ObamaCare, you will believe that the complete and total disillusion of the Union is on the offing, that our great nation will cease to exist, our freedoms slowly marginalized into obscurity, as we enter into an Obamaesque communistic utopia, planned and executed by the leftist proponents of the New World Order.Spoon …Below we will examine some information I pulled from the article I mentioned earlier. It was written by CNN Money contributor Shawn Tulley. It was posted on Rush Limbaugh’s site, and I picked it up on Neal Boortz’s site. Let’s examine what some are calling facts, and see if it is really fiction, seeking to be made into fact through the effective utilization of hyperbole and propaganda.The article was called, “5 Freedoms You’d Lose In Health Care Reform.” Let’s engage each one critically, and examine it.1. Freedom to choose what's in your plan.Under ObamaCare, the government will mandate "standard benefits packages" that all health care plans must offer in order to be "qualified" by ObamaCare. Will this really make health care less expensive? Don't count on it. "Every group, from chiropractors to alcohol-abuse counselors, do lobbying to get included. Connecticut, for example, requires reimbursement for hair transplants, hearing aids, and in vitro fertilization."My friends, let’s try and parse this paragraph in an effort to understand it clearly. Keep in mind we can apply part of my mental methodology, 3FE (Find, Focus, establish the Fundamentals, Execute) in order to understand what is being said. First, it indicates that ObamaCare will mandate standard benefits packages, that all health care plans must offer in order to be qualified. We can ask critical questions here, like what is the benefits package? What does qualified mean? Who gets included? Where, and in what situation might this be applied? How different might this be from the mandates placed on me by my insurance company? How different might it be from the mandates on my Medicare, Medicaid, or here in Georgia my state run Peachcare?Remember, in any given situation it is a must that we be engaged and respond with critical questions. One must not simply drink from the fount of the loud, the bombastic, or the hopelessly inane. One must regard a critical situation such as healthcare reform seriously, and analyze it for themselves.Understand, this means reading and seeking to understand as best as you can, the facts. I can’t begin to tell you how many people comment on my own YouTube videos by directing me to other YouTube videos that supposedly speak the facts. After watching the video, which in turn is nothing more than witless, and increasingly dangerous propaganda, I’ll check the information links for more information, which I have been directed to read by the YouTuber. I click the links and end up reading about conspiracy theories, legalized White House Power czars, child slave camps, and death boards. This is not conducting primary research my friends. If a government official states publicly they will do a thing, then find where it is written, and read it for yourself.So what can we infer from the loss of Freedom number 1? First, consider that if one implies that this is a freedom, and it is one which we already possess, then one is hopelessly inaccurate. All healthcare plans that are offered now offer a standard care package. When you sign up for you insurance through your employer you are offered packages from standard to what may be called deluxe. Given prevailing economic factors and what the customer may demand in services, a government mandated package will not limit what an individual insurance company can provide in its pursuit of higher profits.Will this make health care less expensive? Will everybody try to creep into the standard government package? Perhaps, and it will be priced accordingly. However, what would prevent the government Public Option from providing a suite of options, priced accordingly for the indigent to the wealthy? What precludes government from offering a suite of options just as private insurance does now? Conclusion, so long as we maintain critical dialogue and engage our government effectively, we can gain the best in terms of care and the least in terms of cost for a suite of packages, an option we can demand, which is not a freedom we currently enjoy.SUPPORT AND ACTIVELY PROMOTE OBAMACARE IN ’09!2. Freedom to be rewarded for healthy living, or to pay your own costs.Under ObamaCare, all qualified plans must conform to a yet-to-be-developed "community rating" scheme, whereby all insureds pay roughly the same premium, regardless of age or health. Giving a break to people who suffer from chronic or hereditary conditions like diabetes or cancer is not a bad idea, but community rating is like "car insurers [having] to charge the same rates to safe drivers as to chronic speeders with a history of accidents."The second freedom we are set to lose appears to me once again like a freedom we never had. If we focus on the comparison used, I’m certain many people will wonder what the article’s author means. There are many people who are excellent drivers, but have been adversely affected by how insurance companies rate them based on where they live, and what type of ethnicity they may be (well, this is illegal, and does not happen anymore?). Still, let’s dispel that thought and focus on what is being said.It does seem clear that ObamaCare as currently outlined by House Bill 3200: America’s Affordable Health Choices Act, is insisting that premiums be maintained at reasonable levels in order to insure that coverage can be maintained at all levels of the socio-economic ladder. It also implies a tax penalty for those that do not have coverage. In this sense, I can’t agree with the plan as outlined. It would seem to deny the ability to offer a suite of coverage defined by private enterprise, by holding private insurance companies to a community rating with certain specific areas of variance. This can be a point of contention and should be re-examined for real-world viability. I have an option that should be included in place of what HR 3200 is offering, and I will detail it after we discuss the next freedom.In summary, this too is not a freedom that we currently enjoy. I don’t know anyone who gets rewarded for being well, accept when one considers the healthier they are the fewer co-pays and lab-work fees they’ll have to pay. They still have to suffer the pain of ever-increasing monthly insurance payments eating, no devouring their salaries or wages. Part of what OBAMACARE is emphasizing is programs to promote wellness. I fully stand behind this. The only thing I would add, and hopefully something like it will be added as the final version of the bill nears completion, is a provision truly rewarding an individual for being well, which might translate into something like annual credits to be utilized as accumulated costs savings on health services, and/or credits to doctors for successfully maintaining a healthy and vigorous clientele. I would not like to see this incorporated as a tax credit … because I’m still praying for the Fair Tax in coming years. I don’t see anything like this in the current incarnation of HR 3200. However, don’t think this means you should step away from the table, and pull your support. No! Quite the opposite! It means you should increase your engagement and push for the things you want to see in Health Care reform.SUPPORT OBAMACARE IN ’09!3. Freedom to choose high-deductible coverage.The mandatory low-deductible, full-coverage benefits packages in qualified ObamaCare programs will end the ability of consumers to buy cheaper, catastrophic care health policies and use the resulting premium savings to pay for occasional doctor visits and prescriptions out of pocket. For young, healthy Americans who do not need monthly prescription medications, this is an attractive and affordable option for health coverage. (This was the type of coverage I bought until I got married and had kids. It cost me $110 a month in the mid-1990's.)The Freedom to choose high-deductible coverage is very much an enticing option when one is young, healthy, and feels quite invincible. When I first started working I did the exact same thing as the author, opted for the super cheap insurance. I want to take a moment and ask that you focus on what is being detailed here, what is the essence of this supposed loss of freedom.An aspect of choice.On the surface, allow me to say I think we finally hit upon something on which the article’s author and I can agree. One of our most important freedoms is indeed the freedom to choose, within reason, given legal constraints by law, and of course the natural rights of humankind. According to HR 3200, as I interpret it, an individual will be taxed a penalty for not having health insurance coverage. I think this is wrong. One should be able to choose whether or not they want to have insurance coverage. It’s just that simple.We have to be critical and use sound judgment in where we want to apply force in improving and evolving our culture. This evolution and growth should be forced only in terms of promoting, and making a thing (health services) available. The ultimate choice should still remain the purview of the adult individual. So what does this mean in terms of HR 3200? As I alluded to earlier, I have my own solution, which I would like to see added to the legislation.I’ve considered it critically, and to my common mind it means if a person chooses to not have coverage, and they aren’t in the indigent category (such as the homeless wandering into a hospital), then that’s fine. If this person of means gets sick, they should be given the right to pay the $20, $30, $150, $500 required by the physician, or emergency room attendant tending to their care. If that person does not have the necessary funds to cover whatever care has been provided, then that burden naturally falls on the taxpayer. At that moment, in that very instance, our data systems implemented due to the provisions provided in ObamaCare, should indicate this person has violated our health care policies to the detriment of the American taxpayer, and should be assessed a tax penalty, and immediately enrolled in the public plan, at the primary benefits package cost. That person will have the option of changing plans, and going with a private insurer, so long as they maintain continuous coverage, which means demonstrating that they maintain their payments for six months, proof that they will not again burden the taxpayer with personal negligence. Just my opinion. I would like to see this added to the legislation.SUPPORT AND ACTIVELY PROMOTE OBAMACARE IN ’09!4. Freedom to keep your existing plan.This has been discussed at length here at WizBang. And frankly, it's the biggest lie currently being told by the Obama Administration. Draconian restrictions that will be placed on private health insurance plans by ObamaCare guarantee that almost everyone who is currently covered by private insurance will be forced out of those plans and into the public ObamaCare insurance exchange within 12 months.This has been discussed at length by many of my follow critical thinkers and we think the assertion made by the author in this statement is one of the stupidest, worst piece of broadcast political spin histrionic propaganda put forth throughout this entire health care debate, next to Death Panels of course. It is pure political ideological, meant to press forth an agenda and ruin the current administration, hot off the hyped-up press garbage. My friends, we don’t even need to debate freedom number 4. Why, because the President of these United States has stated time and time again that you will be able to keep your plan if you so desire. Personally, it’s quite clear that my plan sucks rhinoceros waste. However, I love my doctor. Really! The man is just there for me whenever I need him. If competition drives down the cost of my plan and expands my coverage, then lets get moving on reform starting yesterday. However, for those of you that enjoy your current plan, it’s really simple … you keep it. Spin-doctors and Poll-Moronic-Mind-Meisters are incredibly adept at moving the common man’s mind, and making him see things that aren’t even there, believe things, that have not happened, and fear things that don’t exist. This is their purpose, and their reason for living. They elect officials with ulterior motives, and care nothing for the good of the common human being, be he wealthy or poor. It’s all about the objective, and their personal benefit. This is the crux of THEIR freedom number 4.In summary, Freedom number 4 has been assured by the President himself. If he doesn’t hold true to his word, it’s simple. We kick him out of office. However, the Miesters are convincing the non-critical thinking masses that this freedom’s loss is a fait accompli, that we Americans can’t even give the President the chance to try for CHANGE we can believe in, because he’s going to take our freedoms away. People, be critical. Be thinking … for yourself. Be engaged, so you can counter this mindlessness that is passed out to the masses like so much mental candy fit for consumption, when really, it’s only fit for waste.SUPPORT AND ACTIVELY PROMOTE OBAMACARE IN ’09!5. Freedom to choose your doctors.Under ObamaCare, you'll be "assigned a primary care doctor, and the doctor controls your access to specialists. The primary care physicians will decide which services, like MRIs and other diagnostic scans, are best for you, and will decide when you really need to see a cardiologists or orthopedist ... The danger is that doctors will be financially rewarded for denying care, as were HMO physicians more than a decade ago." If the fees paid by the government to primary care physicians are going to be based on efficiency or cost-saving ratings by government bureaucrats, then doctors can also easily be punished if they make too many specialist referrals. Is this really the way to sustain quality health care for Americans? Remember, on of President Obama’s goals is to level the playing field with respect to how much money primary care physicians and specialists earn.This is what is known as prevarication. What is the definition of prevarication? It is the act of shuffling, or quibbling in order to evade the truth, to speak falsely, or more importantly, to speak in a misleading manner; to deliberately misstate or create an incorrect impression.Can you say Poll-Moronic-Mind-Meisters three times fast?First, let’s just say the President has said time and time again, you can keep the doctor, and the insurance you have if you so desire … again. In fact, let’s say it one more time. You can keep your doctor, and your plan. There, again just for good measure. Please remember people, all we need do is hold the man to his word. Don’t call him a liar when the Bill is still sitting in committee. In fact, just don’t call him a liar at all, until he gives you proof that he is one. Be critical thinking. Don’t be a spoon.Applying portions of 3FE, the critical thinking common man’s tool of motivational empowerment, let us parse this statement, Find what’s pertinent in it, Focus on it, and establish the critical Fundamental facts. Will you be assigned a primary care physician under ObamaCare? Sure you will. Are you not assigned a primary care physician now, from a variety of choices? Will this be any different under ObamaCare? No, it won’t. This is not a Freedom you will lose.Under ObamaCare will the doctor decide what services you will receive? Duhhh, yes he will. Again, is this any different from how we do things now? No, it is not. Just as it is now, under ObamaCare you will have to be a responsible patient, working closely with your physician to understand what is happening to you, and partnering on how best to treat what ails you. This is common sense. It is common sense that many Americans actively run away from. However, times are changing. People are working to be well, to live healthier lifestyles, to lose weight, understanding that fat is not okay, if it is indeed trending you toward diabetes and heart disease.Will doctors be rewarded for not giving you services? As part of an imperative to limit costs, let’s just say this is accurate. However, in this statement the word prevaricate is so appropriate and aptly applied. The objective would be to set certain standards to which doctors adhere so they don’t actively work to avoid lawsuits and run up costs, especially for Medicare patients.People, please understand that rightsizing medical services is a tricky and complex thing, but it can be done. We can establish norms that not only accurately assess health and provide diagnostic information, but give the patient that feel-good feeling one so readily needs when they visit the doctor, that the services she has provided are very appropriate, and more than adequate. For clarification on why this is so important read a very critical article from the New Yorker regarding health care in McAllen Texas. It’s called, The Cost Conundrum, written by Atul Gawande. Don’t be put off by the name. Remember, this is America. And, for a sobering differing perspective by a doctor from McAllen, read an article from Health Leaders Media called, Doctor Says New Yorker Used Slanted Stats Against McAllen, TX. Remember, we need perspective in order to achieve wisdom. I would hope after reading both you would find that the truth lies in the middle, and the story of McAllen is truly required reading, an example of what not to do, and where we can find incredibly significant cost savings.What is clear? It’s clear that the President’s mandate is to eliminate waste, not punish doctors for referring people to specialists, but rather incentivize the promotion of wellness so the doctor won’t have to send patients to specialists. Remember the word prevaricate?Regarding the level playing field in terms of how much money primary care physicians make, it’s not about some socialized mandate that means everyone makes the same. It’s about removing abuse from the system, and letting market forces in terms of service and demand drive costs at reasonable levels, without financially murdering the patient, or the taxpayer, who in many cases, more than we might think, is one and the same. Personally I feel like I’m getting stabbed every time I see a bill for lab-work, which used to be covered by my insurance.In summary, this is not a Freedom you would lose under ObamaCare. Keep yourself accountable. Keep you doctor accountable. Keep you government accountable. And remember, there is a clear difference between keeping them accountable utilizing critical thinking skills versus blindly spewing hate and rhetoric in an effort to bring down the administration because … they just ain’t right!SUPPORT AND ACTIVELY PROMOTE OBAMACARE IN ’09!In the rest of the article the author basically goes on to state that nothing will change under ObamaCare except the entire health care delivery system. Let me make this simple for you, THAT IS A GREAT THING. I’m sick of $400 out of each paycheck. I’m sick of $45 dollar co-pays when they used to be $5. I’m sick of paying for my own lab work on the best insurance available to my family through our employer, with coverage that doesn’t cover everything. I’m sick, and trembling at the thought of catastrophic illness striking anyone in my family, as it did my father-in-law, who had to pay $2000 for his procrit shot (per shot) when he was fighting cancer. I’m sick and shuddering as I remember the bill we received from the hospital after he passed. I’m sick, remembering that he was so fiscally conservative that he funneled sums of money to insurance and other sources just to cover such eventualities. I’m sick because even as I practice F-PEC, I can’t do that with my money right now. It’s not feasible as a middle-class American paying a mortgage, saving for retirement, and living reasonably well on a budget in modern America to shunt sums of money to extra, yes extra, insurance to cover every eventuality. I’m sick because I miss my father-in-law dearly. He was a great man.I’m sick because I watch Americans on a daily basis give in to mindless rhetoric and propaganda. I’m sick because I watch so many white Americans who consider themselves moderates and compassionate conservatives, ally themselves with the compassionless conservatives and racists. I’m sick because the remnants of that peculiar institution for which so many Americans can’t even bring themselves to remotely apologize for still remains.Yes, I’m sick, and even as I speak to kids and tell them that once upon a time a great black man named W.E.B Dubious, a learned scholar from Harvard, stated that the defining issue of 20th Century America is the problem of the color line, racism, the issue of his era remains the issue of our own. I stay sick because as I keep talking to them I say that though the issue is very much still relevant, the defining issue, the problem of 21st Century America is the money line, economics, the widening divide between the haves, and the have-nots. I almost vomit as I stop and consider it critically, and realize, even as I think about Geraldo Rivera’s book, His-Panic, Why America Fears Hispanics in the US, that the problem of the color line has not receded quite as far back as I had once thought, that I was being naïve, and that I must dispel that naiveté and gird myself for what looks like an onrushing wave of intensifying racism. I must remind the young Black American men that they are Black American men, and still considered less-than in the eyes of all the other children of planet Earth, despite the fact that a black man of vast intelligence, wise political acumen, ethics, and good strong aspirations for all of Earth’s peoples resides in the White House.I’m sick because I know there are Americans, my people, even now, plotting. I’m sick because racism is alive, strong, hateful, willful, and consuming. I’m sick because people, white Americans, are banding together in unreasoning irrationality to oppose just about anything this administration does, starting this year, THIS YEAR, and are at a loss to explain why. I’m sick because my fellow Americans can’t acknowledge their own racism, which will be their downfall, as well ours. Yes, we will all be doomed to hell together. I’m sick because just like an alcoholic, they fight against accepting the condition, which of course is the first step in moving on to wellness.I’m … just … sickMy fellow Americans, please, I beg of you, let’s stand together, and plan to be well. I go to the mall, and I see hope, and the promise of feeling well. I see White, Black, Latino, Asian, Indian and everything else walking, talking, laughing, embracing, and I’m filled with hope. I talk to my friends, of all ethnicities, and rejoice at their feelings of hope, knowing that the see what I see, feel what I feel, empathizing as best as they can, fully considering my perspective, and eagerly joining me in this struggle. I feel this, and I have hope of feeling well. Yes, I have great hope, because I know so many people, so many that are Anglo-American, African-American, Latin-American, Asian-American, Indian-American, and whatever else American are strongly committed to the American ideal, and consider a statement like, “I hope he fails,” to be the mantra of the mindless and asinine, a statement that can’t be coddled, sugar coated, or retracted, simply because the person who said it refuses to do so, even though we would willingly give him the chance. Yes, I have hope. Yes, I believe I will get better. I believe I will be well. My fellow Americans, let us all work together to be well. Let us work together to be innovative, creative, brilliant, world-changing Americans. Let us be … together.SUPPORT AND ACTIVELY PROMOTE OBAMACARE IN ’09!www.2rulesof3.comblog.2rulesof3.comwww.TheHandMill.comblog.dsbrownwrites.comblog.facebooktales.comwww.youtube.com/dsbrown300

My response to District 419…I mean District 9. ;-)

Posted by Nnedi Okorafor on August 23, 2009 at 8:50pm

Contrary to many, I did not like District 9...for many reasons. After some deliberation, I decided to post my reasons on my blog.Read it here.Nnedi

First Breath

Posted by Valjeanne Jeffers on August 20, 2009 at 4:30pm

With bloodbeating at my templesand horizonsbeckoning for discoveryland, magicalstrangetaboowaitedfor my penMiles and Coltrane'snightingalesawoke to trill of moonbeamsand desireZora,Langston andOctavia whispered:"We waiting onon you,you better createworlds..."That's I when I knewit was time to speakrivers-- funky motifsrip a piece ofsoulful sinewSweeten itSeason itcry loudmy passionAnd shards of gold fleckedviolet spit the airwith sound and fury!With laughter, love andtears I touched my lips to thembreathed life into these spiritsfreed them to walk acrossthe pageIn that hour liberation found meIn that hour I embraced herAnd gave voice to my writing handCopyright 2009 Valjeanne JeffersPublished In Liberated Muse Vol I: How I Freed my Soulall rights reserved

IN ABSENTIA AT ONYXCON

Posted by Charles R. Saunders on August 19, 2009 at 8:46am

As most of you are aware, Joseph Wheeler III’s historic Onyxcon convention was held in Atlanta last weekend. Joseph invited me to attend, but that wasn’t possible. In my absence, I wrote a short speech and asked my good friend Milton Davis, who attended the convention, to deliver it for me. Milton was gracious enough to do so, and I thought I’d share the speech with BSFS. Here it is:How many times have people gone someplace they’ve always wanted to go to, and sent postcards saying: “Having a great time. Wish you were here.” Probably more times than even a supercomputer could count. Of course, this is not a postcard. But I do wish I were here with you now.I am honored that my friend Milton Davis has agreed to read these words I want to share with you despite my absence.When I began to attend SF conventions during the 1970s, I would never have imagined that a gathering such as this one would be waiting in the future. It seemed about as likely as a black man becoming President.At most of those conventions, the only black face in the crowd was mine. I would see people walking around in fantastical costumes, faces painted green, blue and purple, with horns or antennae glued to their foreheads – but sometimes, I’d get the feeling that I was the alien.Don’t get me wrong, now. I always felt welcome at those cons, and I never experienced any racial profiling. Nobody ever asked me to carry their bags to their hotel room. When I began to make a name for myself with my Imaro stories, I received recognition at the conventions, and made many friends among con-goers and fellow authors.Yet for all that, something was missing. It was like being accepted into an adoptive family, but still wondering where the other family is.I wondered for a long time. I’m not wondering anymore, though, because now I know that other family is right here.For decades, blacks were for the most part restricted to the peripheries of the science fiction, fantasy and horror genres: mostly left out, or portrayed primarily as stereotypical caricatures on the rare occasions in which they were included. There were exceptions, but those exceptions did not disprove the rule.Slowly but surely, that situation has changed. Just as Rosa Parks showed us that we don’t have to be at the back of the bus, Lieutenant Uhura showed us that we don’t have to be at the back of the spaceship. Now, we’re taking ownership of the genres that entertain us, and no longer exclude us.No longer are we only occasional visitors to the houses of science fiction, fantasy and horror. Now, those are our houses. Not only that; we’ve made them our home, and we don’t need to show ID to prove we belong there.I would not have felt like an alien here at Onyxcon. I would have felt at home.All praise to Brother Joseph Wheeler III and his colleagues for making this significant and historic event a reality. I regret that circumstances prevent me from attending, but I am definitely here in spirit and soul.Peace, power and love from your friend and brother, Charles “Imaro” Saunders.

Mermaid (Flash Fiction)

Posted by mikodragonfly on August 13, 2009 at 6:43am

Say, the only dream you ever had was blue. A cool, fierce brilliance that engulfs everything in the universe. All you know of your place in the monochromatic everything is webbed feet, jewel fingers and a certain unnameable longing. At night - there in the dark you reach upward and out, straining to grasp the hazy glow of a distant light in your palms.You begin to drift faster and farther from the deep and dark. It’s warm near the surface but you don’t know what warmth is. There had never been anyone to teach you that word. It’s a different kind of feeling. It tickles your skin, makes your blood blaze and your heart leap. You soar, soar, soar toward the brilliance above and beyond until one night, the ghostly light looms directly overhead. You’re amazed because before, you had only your heart to see with but now you have eyes and everything, everywhere is amplified. Suddenly, you’re no longer floating in that vast and lonely silence. The world you know has been set on its ear. It tilts over like a clumsy crab, unsettling you. You breathe in the air but you don’t know what air is. It whips around you and it roars. It’s makes your bones sing, sing, sing.The light you were chasing is still way, way up above and out of reach. The darkness overhead is blanketed by jittery dots of light. You remember, with stark clarity that you’ve seen it all before; stood on two feet on this shore and lamented over the alien yet strangely familiar jewels that you could neither grasp with your own two hands, nor wish upon fast enough when they fell from the heavens like tears. You remember being human, what the poet said about death and the narwhal’s horn.You look to the stars, you look to the sea. You remember why you once cast the earth and the heavens away. Is this the first time it occurs to you, that the glitter-spotted darkness you’d left behind in the wet was the same as the seething mass in that place where you cannot fly?Your body bends. You sink back down into the sea. Burying your heart and your longing once again, you dive all the way back down into the dark and the deep.

Is Africa Ready for Science Fiction?

Posted by Nnedi Okorafor on August 12, 2009 at 10:30pm

Read my essay titled "Is Africa Ready for SF" on the Nebula Awards blog here.I interviewed a few interesting folks including Nollywood film director Tchidi Chikere.Nnedi

The Speculative Literature Foundation Older Writer Grant. I Entered and Won!

Posted by Karen Simpson on August 12, 2009 at 11:47am

The Speculative Literature Foundation was launched in January 2004 to promote literary quality in speculative fiction. Every year they offer a grant for older writers . Every year I put off entering. Well, this year because of a reminder by Malon Edwards I got my behind in gear and entered a selection from my novel Act of Grace and guess what I won!!!Information about me and my entry should be up on the SLF website so take a look, and all you writers who are over fifty please take the time to enter next year.

Writing 2 stories at once

Posted by Raymond Murray on August 5, 2009 at 1:52pm

I felt like I kinda needed to do both..............write my short story online and my main work quietly at home.So please bear with me my online short story will constantly be updated

Ten Minute Freewrite

Posted by Troy Wiggins on August 5, 2009 at 1:03pm

I have ten minutes left until lunch, and i feel like writing. Enjoy!KotanMarkel tossed and turned on his bedroll, awaking with a start every time a shattering blast of thunder ripped through the countryside surrounding his small cottage. Iridescent flashes of light sparked outside of his window, throwing splashes of color across the interior of his home. No one could sleep through a storm such as this, he thought. How could anyone? He imagined the entire willage out peering through cracks in their curtains, eagerly awaiting the inevitable torrents of rain and the ripping wind.Another concussive blast shook him. Unable to remain on his bedroll, he got up from the floor and clambered to his window, hoping that the destruction caused by the weather would not be too great. He pulled back his curtain, and tried to force his eyes to see in the dark night. Flexing his toes against the hard wood of the floor, he braced himself for another blast, and the flash of light that would follow it. Nothing could be seen out of the window. The darkness of the moonless night washed over everything like a bucket of fresh tar. He stood and waited expectantly.After a while waiting at the window, there was no concussion, no flash. Sighing, Markel left the window and returned to his bedroll, trying to stifle a yawn. As he lowered himself to the floor, an unusual realization struck him.When he was younger, his elder sister showed him a trick to figure out how far away a thunderstorm was from your location, the better to round up your animals and shelter them to preven accidents caused by their fear of the storm."Wait for the lightning," she wold say. "after, when it strikes, count slowly on your fingers until you hear the thunder."Markel would watch his sister, amazed as she counted on her fingers. The time would pass excruciatingly slowly, and he would begin to tremble as he awaited the ear-splitting crash of the thunder. No matter how he prepared, the thunder would always catch him off guard. He likened the sound to a bully, or annoying prankster. His sister would hold up her delicate fingers, to show him how much time had passed."Once you hear the thunder, take the number you have counted on your fingers and divide by five. That's how many miles away the storm is."Markel smiled at the memory of his sister, but as soon as it spread across his face, it vanished. He clearly recalled hearing the thunder before the lightning this time.He vaulted up from his bedroll, and stumbled to the door. Another violent crash rent the air as he pulled the door open. He could feel it in his gut--something was horribly wrong here. Thick blackness spilled into his home. It seemed to wrap around his ankles as he stepped out into the night. The air had a viscous quality to it, like a bad pudding. It was almost unbearably hot outside, much too hot for a mere summer storm.Suddenly, light cascaded through the sky, lighting up the countryside for miles around. Markel's eyes were permanently stained with the image that it revealed.In the distance, he could see the village. It looked well, and there was no evident trouble there. It was what was to the east of the village that caused the man to fall backwards with a sudden and terrible loss of nerve.Two enormous men, both far larger than Markel, were locked in combat. Both wore splendid armor, and held swords that could not have been crafted by the hand of and man that he knew. Their wispy white locks streamed behind them as the manuevered through the air for position. Markel blinked. Men didn't fly. Each clash of their magnificently wrought swords caused a peal of concussive force that slammed the combatants away from each other. Each strike of sword on armor resulted in a series of colored flashes of light that pierced the blackness of the night. Even though the men were many arrow-lengths away, and in the air no less, Markel could see them as if they fought directly in front of him.There was a slight change in the air. Markel knew a mistake had been made. He didn't know how he knew, but he did.Almost imperceptibly, one of the combatants stumbled back, his armor torn in several places. Markel could see the strain on his face. The other closed in like a hunter, sensing the opening."No!!" Markel screamed, terror gripping his insides. His admonishment came too late. With a terrible roar that sent ice shooting through Markel, the victor plunged his sword into his faltering opponent. Markel doubled over as searing pain rushed into him. It was as if he himself had been run through. The stabbed man floundered for an instant, but it ceased as the victor finally gave his sword a sickening twist. He contemptuously beheld the body on his weapon, then, with a grunt, flung it toward the ground. Thecorpse rocketed toward the grassland below, and threw up a cloud of dust as it struck the far off ground.Soaked in sweat and trembling, Markel released his pained stomach and struggled to his feet. He jumped back in shock as he saw the winning combatant, streaked in gore and dirt, floating above him. His armor was creased and ripped, and he had gashes that oozed profusely. The air crackled around him, and he floated nearer and nearer to Markel, who couldn't force strength into his legs to retreat from the monster that approached him.

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IN ABSENTIA AT ONYXCON

Mermaid (Flash Fiction)

Is Africa Ready for Science Fiction?

The Speculative Literature Foundation Older Writer Grant. I Entered and Won!

Writing 2 stories at once

Ten Minute Freewrite

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