The Mallet of Loving Correction Part 21

Also, we don't want you to worry if you hear news about super intelligent zombie badgers attacking Western Ohio. It's totally not true. Yes, there are super-intelligent badgers. Yes, they are attacking, with their evil badger guns that shoot mini-badgers that have even smaller guns that shoot even smaller badgers. BUT THEY ARE NOT ZOMBIES, and that's really the most important thing.

We are fine, since we (as you know) have been prepared for a super-intelligent badger attack for years. Some of your friends may have been eaten, however. Well, most of them have. In fact, all of them have and the school year has been cancelled and you will instead be tutored by a robot. It will teach you calculus and in return you will teach it how to love, and also to shoot super-intelligent badgers. That's the deal, and I think it's a fair one.

Oh, and when you come home, don't tell your mother I told you about the badger thing. She doesn't want to speak of it EVER AGAIN. It makes her a little crazy, actually; she runs around the house bellowing "DIE MUSTELID DIE!" until I give her chocolate. So don't mention badgers, unless you have chocolate. But not dark chocolate. You know she doesn't like that.

Anyway, to recap: Hope you're having fun, horses, super-intelligent badgers, robots learning how to love, bellowing mom, chocolate (not dark). I think that covers it.

Oh, except: I love you and miss you, and also I love you.

Dad And that's what it's like to have me as a dad. In case you were wondering.

Where It Began Jun

21.

2008.

You know, as a young teenage boy, I was about as h.o.m.ophobic as any young teenage boy is. Why? Oh, for all the usual reasons, including years of soaking up general anti-gay sentiment without even knowing or understanding it (for example, playing lots of games of "smear the queer" in elementary school), and of course having just hit p.u.b.erty, being oversaturated by hormones, and thus being turned on by just about everything, and wondering oh my G.o.d what it meant that I found Boy George maybe a little cute. So yeah: Basic gay panic case at 14 years old. What can you do.

Getting over that took the usual things, like actually knowing gay people, learning the history of gays and lesbians, finding out that many of the people I admired culturally were gay or bis.e.xual, sorting out my own s.e.xuality to my satisfaction, and also coming to the conclusion that a lot of the people who didn't like gays and lesbians weren't the sort of people I wanted to hang around with anyway. It took time, and I think I'm fortunate to come to the place where I am at the moment.

That said, and unlike most people, I can tell you exactly when the first time I actually thought about h.o.m.ophobia was, and the first time it seemed like nonsense to me. It was when I saw the video for "Smalltown Boy" by Bronski Beat on the video show of a local UHF channel.

In the video, if you haven't watched it (and won't watch it now), a young gay man (played by BB lead singer Jimmy Sommerville) visits a local gym, where a swimmer seems to come on to him, only to beat the c.r.a.p out of him with a bunch of friends. Jimmy is taken home by the cops, and this is how his parents find out he's gay. He decides to leave home, and his dad is still so upset that he can't shake his own son's hand goodbye. And off he goes.

I remember being 15 years old, watching the video, and feeling sad for the Jimmy Sommerville character, and also being aware enough to know that the video was almost certainly based on experience; if not Sommerville's directly, then that of someone else in the band, or of someone they knew. I knew the band members were gay-there was a kid at school who got every issue of Smash Hits, so we were all caught up on all the Brit bands of the time-so it wasn't hard to connect the dots. And when the dots were connected up, they seemed unfair.

I'm somewhat famous for noting that life isn't fair (ask Athena, after she's tried to use the "unfair" defense to get out of doing something), but at the same time, there's a difference between the fact that the universe is inherently unfair on a cosmic level, and the fact that life is unfair because people are actively making it so. There's not much one can do about the former, but the latter is fixable. What was going on with Jimmy Sommerville's character in that video was unfair in the latter way. There was no reason he shouldn't be loved by his family. There was no reason he ought not find love with someone else.

None of this. .h.i.t me like a ton of bricks, I should say. I was 15, I wasn't a brilliant critical thinker, and I had other things going on in my mind at the time (mostly involving a girl I had no chance of getting with; another story of messed-up s.e.xuality entirely). But I can say the video and the song stuck in my head and I came back to both more than once, trying to figure out why they affected me as much as they did. I did figure it out, eventually.

Now, I like to think that without the video and song, I would have still ended up where I am on this particular subject; I suspect that sooner or later people do become who they are meant to be, no matter how they get there. But this takes nothing away from the fact this was the video and the song that got that ball rolling in my life. It does point to how music can be meaningful, and yes, change lives in its way.

I'm not the only one who thinks this of course, or even thinks this about this particular song and video. A couple of years ago Andrew Sullivan singled out "Smalltown Boy," as a critical anthem for the gay community: "Even now, it chokes me up," he said. "The video is a record of the beginnings of a revolution. You can feel it coming." I don't doubt he's right that it mattered to any number of gay men, back in the day. For at least one other person, it mattered too.

Who Gets To Be a Geek? Anyone Who Wants To Be Jul

26.

2012.

The other day CNN let some dude named Joe Peac.o.c.k vomit up an embarra.s.sing piece on its Web site, about how how awful it is that geekdom is in the process of being overrun by attractive women dressing up in costumes ("cosplaying," for the uninitiated) when they haven't displayed their geek cred to Mr. Peac.o.c.k's personal satisfaction. They weren't real geeks, Mr. Peac.o.c.k maintains-he makes a great show of supporting real geek women, the definition of which, presumably, are those who have pa.s.sed his stringent entrance requirements, which I am sure he's posted some place other than the inside of his skull-and because they're not real geeks, they offend people like him, who are real geeks: They're poachers. They're a pox on our culture. As a guy, I find it repugnant that, due to my interests in comic books, sci-fi, fantasy and role playing games, video games and toys, I am supposed to feel honored that a pretty girl is in my presence. It's insulting...You're just gross.

For the moment, let's leave aside the problem of a mentality that a.s.sumes that the primary reason some woman might find it fun and worthwhile to cosplay as one of her favorite science fiction and fantasy characters is to get the attention of some dudes, to focus on another interesting aspect of this piece: Namely, that Joe Peac.o.c.k has arrogated to himself the role of Speaker for the Geeks, with the ability to determine whether any particular group of people is worthy of True Geekdom. This on the basis, one presumes, of his resume and his longtime affiliation as a geek.

Well, fine. Hey, Joe: Hi, I'm John Scalzi. I am also a longtime geek. My resume includes three New York Times bestselling science fiction books, three books nominated for the Best Novel Hugo, six other Hugo nominations (as well as Nebula, Locus, Sidewise and other award nominations), one novel optioned for a science fiction film, a stint consulting for the Stargate: Universe television show, a long history in video games as a player (Atari, yo) and as a writer, including writing for the Official US Playstation Magazine for six years and currently writing a game for Industrial Toys. I wrote a column on science fiction film for four years and have two books on the subject. I've been writing this blog for fourteen years and was one of the early adopters of self-publis.h.i.+ng one's books online; additionally three books of mine (including one Hugo winner) have been of work originally published online. I was a special guest at this year's ComicCon. I am the toastmaster of this year's Worldcon. I am the sitting president of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America.

I outrank you as Speaker for the Geeks.

You are overruled.

Your entire piece is thrown out as condescending, ent.i.tled, oblivious, s.e.xist and obnoxious.

And no, you can't object (well, you can, but you'll be summarily overruled). You made the decision based on your life experience as a geek that you could tell other people who is welcome as a geek and who is not. Based on my life experience as a geek, I have made the decision that I am qualified to tell you to suck eggs. You want to slap down people who you don't feel qualify for geekdom? Then I get to slap you down for being wrong, on the basis of being higher up in the geek hierarchy. You don't like it? Then you shouldn't have played this game to begin with. You played your cards, and I now I've played mine. This round goes to me. I have the conch. And now I will speak.

Who gets to be a geek?

Anyone who wants to be, any way they want to be one.

Geekdom is a nation with open borders. There are many affiliations and many doors into it. There are lit geeks, media geeks, comics geeks, anime and manga geeks. There are LARPers, cosplayers, furries, filkers, crafters, gamers and tabletoppers. There are goths and horror geeks and steampunkers and academics. There are nerd rockers and writers and artists and actors and fans. Some people love only one thing. Some people flit between fandoms. Some people are positively poly in their geek enthusiasms. Some people have been in geekdom since before they knew they were geeks. Some people are n00bs, trying out an aspect of geekdom to see if it fits. If it does, great. If it doesn't then at least they tried it.

Many people believe geekdom is defined by a love of a thing, but I think-and my experience of geekdom bears on this thinking-that the true sign of a geek is a delight in sharing a thing. It's the major difference between a geek and a hipster, you know: When a hipster sees someone else grooving on the thing they love, their reaction is to say "Oh, c.r.a.p, now the wrong people like the thing I love." When a geek sees someone else grooving on the thing they love, their reaction is to say "ZOMG YOU LOVE WHAT I LOVE COME WITH ME AND LET US LOVE IT TOGETHER."

Any jerk can love a thing. It's the sharing that makes geekdom awesome.

Let's take these women cosplayers, who Mr. Peac.o.c.k is so handflappingly disgusted with and dismissive of. Let's leave aside, for now, the idea that for those of this group attending ComicCon, spending literally hundreds and perhaps even thousands of dollars on ComicCon pa.s.ses, hotels, transportation, food, not to mention the money and time required to put together an excellent costume, is not in itself a signal indication of geek commitment. Let's say that, in fact, the only reason the women cosplayers are there is to get their cosplay on, in front of what is likely to be an appreciative audience.

So what?

As in, so what if their only geekdom is cosplay? What if it is? Who does it harm? Who is materially injured by the fact? Who, upon seeing a woman cosplaying without an accompanying curriculum vitae posted above her head on a stick, laying out her geek bona fides, says to him or herself "Everything I loved about my geekdom has turned to ashes in my mouth," and then flees from the San Diego Convention Center, weeping? If there is such an unfortunate soul, should the fragile pathology of their own geekdom be the concern of the cosplaying woman? It seems highly doubtful that woman spent hundreds if not thousands of dollars to show up in San Diego just to ruin some random, overly-sensitive geek's day. It's rather more likely she came to enjoy herself in a place where her expression of her own geekiness would be appreciated.

So what if her geekiness is not your own? So what if she isn't into the geek life as deeply as you believe you are, or that you think she should be? So what if she doesn't have a geek love of the things you have a geek love for? Is the appropriate response to those facts to call her gross, and a poacher, and maintain that she's only in it to be slavered over by dudes who (in your unwarranted condescension) you judge to be not nearly as enlightened to the ways of geek women as you? Or would a more appropriate response be to say "great costume," and maybe welcome her into the parts of geekdom that you love, so that she might possibly grow to love them too? What do you gain from complaining about her fakey fake fakeness, except a momentary and entirely erroneous feeling of geek superiority, coupled with a permanent record of your s.e.xism against women who you don't see being the right kind of geek?

These are your choices. Although actually there's a third choice: Just let her be to do her thing. Because here's a funny fact: Her geekdom is not about you. At all. It's about her.

Geekdom is personal. Geekdom varies from person to person. There are as many ways to be a geek as there are people who love a thing and love sharing that thing with others. You don't get to define their geekdom. They don't get to define yours. What you can do is share your expression of geekdom with others. Maybe they will get you, and maybe they won't. If they do, great. If they don't, that's their problem and not yours.

Be your own geek. Love what you love. Share it with anyone who will listen.

One other thing: There is no Speaker for the Geeks. Not Joe Peac.o.c.k, not me, not anyone. If anyone tells you that there's a right way to be a geek, or that someone else is not a geek, or shouldn't be seen as a geek-or that you are not a geek-you can tell them to f.u.c.k right off. They don't get a vote on your geekdom. Go cosplay, or play filk, or read that Doctor Who novel or whatever it is you want to do. Geekdom is flat. There is no hierarchy. There is no leveling up required, or secret handshake, or entrance examination. There's just you.

Anyone can be a geek. Any way they want to. That means you too. Whoever you are.

Anyone who tells you different, you send them to me.

Why I Don't Just Admit I Am a Democrat Aug

8.

2012.

Got an e-mail from someone who's apparently been reading my archives to figure out my political views. It was a hostile e-mail, but at the heart of the e-mail is a legitimate question, which I will paraphrase as such: You say you're politically independent but you vote like a Democrat. Why don't you just admit you're a Democrat?

The answer is: Well, because I'm not.

Three points here: 1. Being a Democrat, in the most obvious sense, would mean being a member of the Democratic Party here in the United States. I am not a member of the Democratic Party currently, nor have I ever been, unless you count the five minutes in 2008 when I checked the "Democrat" checkbox so I could vote in the the 2008 Ohio presidential primary. By that standard I may have been a member of the Republican Party as well at one point, since I believe I voted in a GOP primary once in Virginia (I can't remember if that required a statement about my party; suffice to say I think closed primaries are silly). From the first time I could vote, I have registered as an independent.

Reasons for this: One, on a practical level, it cuts way the h.e.l.l down on the amount of political junk mail I get. I find most political mailings obnoxious and insulting to my intelligence, not to mention a waste of trees, so the less that I have to see, the better. Two, on a philosophical level, I think political parties are a bit of a menace. I don't know if I would actually be happier with our political system if political parties didn't exist and all political candidates had to fend for themselves without a national organization riding herd on them, but I do know that I would be willing to live in the universe where that was the case, to see how it worked out.

2. I don't have a party, but I do have political views. If I lived in Canada, Australia, New Zealand, England or most of what used to be called Western Europe, those political views would probably get me tagged as a member of the major local conservative party. Here in the US, they currently align most frequently with the Democratic party, our ostensibly "liberal" major political party. But 40 years ago, they probably would have gotten me tagged as a moderate Republican. This to my mind suggests there is wisdom in not aligning with actual political parties, and instead establis.h.i.+ng one's own political ideals and then finding which candidates most closely align one's ideals, and political goals.

3. I have (and do) vote for political candidates other than Democrats, and don't automatically vote for Democratic candidates. I've noted before that when I lived in Virginia's 10th District, I regularly voted for Frank Wolf, a conservative Republican; he had many positions I didn't like (including his abortion stance) but he also was the head of the House's Transportation committee (i.e., nice smooth roads in Northern Virginia), had a principled stance on human rights, and even his positions that I opposed were based on his moral and philosophical beliefs rather than mere political expediency. In the end the positives for me outweighed the negatives, and I could vote for him over his opponents in each cycle.

Here in OH-8, I've not voted for John Boehner, but there have been times when I didn't vote for his Democratic opponent, either, because I didn't like their positions, or thought that the advantages of giving him my vote would outweigh the advantages of keeping Boehner, who is, after all, Speaker of the House, and was House Minority Leader prior to that (this election cycle there's no Democrat running against Boehner, so I don't have the option of voting for a Democrat in any event). Beyond that, in state and local elections, I've voted for Republican candidates in most election cycles, when I believed that they were the most qualified candidates for that position and/or that they were running for a post where the more nutty aspects of the current Republican Party orthodoxy would not be a problem.

So, to recap: Philosophically aligned against political parties in a general sense, never registered for any political party, which party my personal politics align with depends on geography and temporality in any event, and I've never voted a straight ticket in my life, so far as I know. So there you are.

This is not to say, mind you, that I am neutral as regards my opinions on the US political parties as they are currently ideologically and practically const.i.tuted; I don't think it'll be a huge surprise to anyone that I am not at all a fan of the Republican Party in its most recent iteration. I would be delighted for the party to swing back toward people who have foundations based in a coherent political philosophy, rather than "whatever Obama is for, I am against, and rich people can do no wrong ever," which is what it seems to boil down to these days for the GOP. The Democratic Party is no prize, but it's at the very least not nearly as far down the slope of truculent irrationality. "Not as truculently irrational," however, is not a sterling inducement for me to join the Democratic Party. Or any party, to be honest about it.

Why In Fact Publis.h.i.+ng Will Not Go Away Anytime Soon: A Deeply Slanted Play in Three Acts Feb

3.

2010.

CHARACTERS:.

ELTON P. STRAuMANN, a modern-thinking man with exciting ideas JOHN SCALZI, a humble writer KRISTINE SCALZI, the wife of a humble writer ACT I.

SCENE OPENS ON STRAuMANN and SCALZI, standing.

STRAuMANN: The publis.h.i.+ng world is changing! In the future, authors will no longer need those fat cat middle men known as "publishers" to get in the way of their art! It will just be the author and his audience!

SCALZI:.

Won't I need an editor? Or a copy editor? Or a cover artist? Or a book designer? Or a publicist? Or someone to print the book and get it into stores?

STRAuMANN (waves hand, testily): Yes, yes. But all those things you can do yourself.

SCALZI:.

And I'm supposed to write the book, too?

STRAuMANN (snorts): As if writing was hard. Now go! And write your novel!

SCALZI goes off to write his novel. STRAuMANN stands, alone, on stage, for several months. Eventually SCALZI returns, with a book.

STRAuMANN: You again! What took you so long?

SCALZI:.

Well, I had to write the book. Then I had to edit it, copy edit it, do the cover, do the book design, have it printed, act as my own distributor and send out press releases. It cost me thousands of dollars out of my own pocket and the better part of a year. But look! Here's the book!

STRAuMANN (pulls out his electronic reader): I'm sorry, I only read on this.

SCALZI sighs, slinks off the stage.

STRAuMANN (yelling after SCALZI): And where's the sequel? Why aren't you writing more?!?

ACT II.

It is A YEAR LATER. SCENE OPENS on STRAuMANN and SCALZI, standing.

STRAuMANN: I'm still waiting for that sequel, you know.

SCALZI:.

I spent all my money last year making that first book. And it didn't sell very well.

STRAuMANN (sneers): Well, what did you expect? The editing was sloppy, the copy editing was atrocious, the layout was amateurish and the cover art looked like it was Photoshopped by a dog. Who would want to buy that?

SCALZI.

(dejected): I know.

STRAuMANN: Seriously, what were you thinking.

SCALZI:.

But that's my point! I want to get professional editing and copy editing and book design and cover art, but I just can't afford it.

STRAuMANN (smiles): Scalzi, you naive fool. Don't you realize that thanks to the current economy we live in, editors and copy editors and artists are desperately looking for work! Surely some of them will work for almost nothing! Scratch that-they'll work for exactly nothing!

SCALZI:.