I’m amused by the euphemistic phrase “climate control.”  Have we become so politically correct that we can’t say “don’t poison the environment” or “don’t kill Gaia”?  Even the latter phrases don’t put the blame where it belongs.  The very liberal NYC mayor Bill De Blasio is calling to reduce the Big Apple’s greenhouse gases by 80% by 2050.  That’s laughable not only for the date but because NYC’s contribution represents one little drop in a huge ocean of pollution in the Northeastern U.S.  Every wee bit helps, I suppose, but the city and its people don’t produce most of the greenhouse gases and pollution.  It’s industry.  Our slogan should be “control industry’s excesses.”  But industry likes the phrase “climate control” because it avoids blame.  It wants people to forget that it’s industry that’s destroying the planet.  De Blasio is a nincompoop falling into industry’s trap.  But what else is old news?

NYC might be producing tons of garbage and polluting waterways with sewage effluent, but industry is the culprit for that and other pollution as well.  Has been, is, and will always will be, unless controls are enacted to lower greenhouse emissions.  I don’t want to hear any whining about the cost.  Sure, we want to make this reduction as painless as possible—heaven forbid that we use a few millions out of the many billions industry makes in order to clean up the planet it’s made into a dirty mess!  Industry is naïve.  Do they think they’ll still be making these billions when the world’s population is starved of oxygen and simmering on the polluted planet that’s fast becoming another Venus?  Greed obviously has no foresight, no appreciation for future problems in its haste to roll in the dough.  Industry lives for the present, not the future.  It doesn’t give a rat’s ass about human beings, let alone the environment.

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Item: Hachette-bias at the Times.  It continues.  David Streitfeld, a Times reporter, brought out the barbs again in his article, “A Writerly Chill at Bezos’ Fire” (Sunday, Sept. 21).  Let’s ignore the fact that “writerly” isn’t even a word (being able to write isn’t a skill most Times reporters have, so I won’t embarrass Mr. Streitfeld by harping on this).  To summarize: every fall, Mr. Bezos invites well-known novelists to his Campfire, a literary weekend in Santa Fe, NM.

To quote Mr. Streitfeld in all his eloquence, “Writers loved it.  There was no hard sell of Amazon, or soft sell.”  Yet this year some writers won’t attend.  You guessed it: all the thoroughbred horses in the Hachette stable, along with any other one-percenter authors following Doug Preston and James Patterson’s rallying calls for attacks on Amazon, these are the people who aren’t going.  Hugh Howey, sci-fi writer and champion of indie publishing, doesn’t want to go either because readers and writers are caught in the middle of this mess.  PeePee (Patterson and Preston) won’t be invited, to be sure—would Churchill have invited Hitler over for a little campfire shindig?

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I was recently encouraged by NASA’s decision to use Space-X and Boeing to send astronauts to the International Space Station.  You might say, “Well, you’re a sci-fi writer, so I’m not surprised!”  Yes indeed, I have written a few sci-fi stories.  I also write suspenseful thrillers and mysteries.  Only one of my stories takes place on ISS (The Secret Lab), so I don’t have any particular agenda.  In fact, I’ve conjectured that the Chinese will make it to Mars first (see Survivors of the Chaos).  Cancelling the Shuttle Program only convinced me more.

I’m encouraged for two reasons.  The first is that it’s high time capitalism goes into space.  I’m talking good capitalism here, the kind that improves products and services and increases the inventive spirit through healthy competition.  Changing the slogan “We have to beat the Russians to the moon!” to “We Space-X engineers and scientists have to beat Boeing’s” is a positive development.  The more competitors, the merrier, I say, as long as there are enough oversight and control to keep things like o-ring mishaps to a minimum (does that company still exist?).

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I’m not just talking about my two mugs of rich, Colombian coffee, but those are certainly necessary for my writing.  I’m also talking about Joe Konrath’s blog.  Long the top link in my useful links for writers and readers (see my “Join the Conversation” webpage)—it’s called “A Newbie’s Guide to Publishing”—it features old Joe and frequent contributor Barry Eisler, often knocking the Big Five for hanging around in their traditional paradigm and attacking those Big Five authors like Patterson who ineptly try to mount defenses of the same.  This is a wonderful place to lurk…and comment too, if you have something to say (your comment will often be lost because the threads become long, but Joe, like me, often sneaks in a comment or two to the comments).  This blog is good for readers too, those who want to know what the Amazon v. Hachette and other skirmishes pitting indie v. Big Five are all about.

I was forced to become just a lurker when Joe took off the name/URL(my website) option.  This happened so often on other blogs using Joe’s same blog service, not WordPress, that I now believe it was an error that Joe’s service made, and nothing intentionally done by Joe.  So I started commenting again, but my comments, as on most blogs and in most discussion groups, are limited.  I’m a shy guy and prefer to lurk (I’m talking about the internet here, folks, so no raised eyebrows, please).  Where I bombard you with my op-eds (my reactions to current news items) as much as I write about the business of writing, Joe’s topics are exclusive to the latter.  Same style, though—acerbic and cynical.  This blog is fun even for old hands who’ve been writing for a while and also readers, but it’s a must for authors starting out.

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Continuing our discussion from Tuesday about rampant commercialism, I find Apple annoying.  Contrary to many people’s opinions, they’ve become like a Wall Street bank—too big to fail!  It would have been enough that they tried to control the ebook business to turn me against them, but I’ve disliked them for years.  Starting with the old toaster MACs, they’ve never made a computer that I like.  Of course, in my old day job, powerful UNIX workstations were required, but I still had to make presentations.  Between Microsoft and Apple, my cursing vocabulary became extensive—in several languages, mind you.  It was the opposite of trying to crack a walnut with a sledgehammer.  I needed the latter and Apple just couldn’t deliver.  Still can’t.

Now that we’re on iPhone 6, I suspect that the geeky gadget lovers are having paroxysms of delight and orgasmic gizmo-dreams.  Who knows?  Maybe that iPhone has more computing power than those old workstations, but that’s comparing Apples to oranges.  Modern servers and workstations still make anything Apple makes about as useful as William Shatner’s tricorder—flashy but fake.  It’s all window dressing, even the apps.  That goes for Samsung smart phones too.  (I’m an equal opportunity kibitzer.)  You own of these, you’re a slave to your apps.  Just try to combine their functionalities or add new functionalities.  Just try to read all those sliding icons (tiles, in MS 8.1 terminology) when you’re on the beach.  And just try to make your data secure—some Hollywood starlets found out the hard way that it’s not.

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If you’re a Yankees fan, probably not; if you’re a Red Sox fan, most certainly not.  If you’re thinking that the new college playoff plan is better than the BCS, you’re right—almost anything would be—but it’s really nothing like the NCAA tournament (you’d have to start the football version back in late August or early September when college teams begin their seasons!).  In the sports world, no matter the playoff that takes place, being number one after a lengthy season is largely irrelevant—it’s the series that counts.  Having a winning series in the book world is altogether different.

Take Patterson’s Women’s Murder Club mysteries.  I’ll give the old boy credit.  It was an original idea, and he avoided the cardinal sin of making each successive book dependent on the previous ones.  You can jump in anywhere.  Looking back over the titles I read in the series, I’ll confess that the order I read them in was completely random (yeah, I used to read Patterson).  Sure, the characters and setting were familiar from book to book, but you can pick up any book from the series and enjoy it.  At a higher quality level, Ian Rankin’s Inspector Rebus series also has that positive feature too.  I started with Resurrection Men when I brushed up on how to write mysteries and police procedurals (some of his books take on new meaning—I’m hoping the Scots vote for independence).

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I suppose this could be interpreted as a follow-up on last Tuesday’s post.  People minimize the onslaught of commercials by using DVRs and streaming video now, but commercial interests still bombard everyone with commercials.  Pop-up ads on websites, especially those with video and sound, are only a small part of the problem.  Theaters, struggling to compete in this internet age, bombard us with commercials too—many of them are the same ones you see on TV.  It’s not enough that you have to mortgage your house to buy your candy and popcorn.  They sell advertising time too.  (I don’t buy anything at concession stands anymore.  If I can’t smuggle in trail mix or a fruit bar, I go without.  Eating distracts from the movie anyway.)  Facebook is even selling political ads.

Some commercials are entertaining if you only see them once.  Being bludgeoned by them over and over again is a bit like an eternity listening to that stupid song “Frozen” (unlike many American businesses, my writing business isn’t a Disney subsidiary—I can tell you the truth about their crappy songs!).  Even worse, on our local stations, commercial X is played at the beginning of a commercial break and then again at the end.  Any cuteness—pets and kids are common—becomes stale (cuteness is over-rated anyway).  Any cleverness also becomes stale.  Make sure all the knives and guns are safely under lock and key because you’ll soon become suicidal with this torture going on.

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[Este mensaje se traduce abajo para todos mis amigos hispanicos.]

I should ask Google why it didn’t come up on today’s banner to remind me (they have young people there with better memories than mine), but this is the start of National Hispanic Heritage Month.  Our celebration runs from today to October 15.

I say “our” because I love most things Hispanic—without being Hispanic.  Food, music, and other aspects of the culture.  Hispanic countries with their beautiful landscapes, lively and friendly people, and wonderful ability to be optimistic in times of trouble and suffering.  I grew up in California with the watchful parenting of two ethnic food lovers.  The main drag through my undergraduate college town was named Embarcadero del Norte.  I speak fluent Spanish and love the musicality of the language because I lived in Colombia, South America, for 10+ years and visited many South American countries.

Think Niagara Falls is great?  You haven’t been to Iguazu and seen the Devil’s Throat.  Our Sierra Nevada and Rocky Mountains are pretty decent, but they don’t compare to the Andes, that massive chain that rips through South American skies from Colombia to Chile.  Like Pirates of the Caribbean?  San Juan, Puerto Rico and Cartagena, Colombia have old forts to revisit those days.  In the latter city, mothers still might scare young children into obedience by threatening them with that monster pirate Drake.

As a writer, I also love to read.  I’ve read some good books written in Spanish, most notably ones by Garcia Marquez.  (My book Survivors of the Chaos has what I consider an homage to magical realism, although some might just call it paranormal funny-business.)  A book about the Dirty War in Argentina is a featured read on “Steve’s Bookshelf.”  And I’ve included characters with Hispanic heritage in my novels, from Jay Sandoval and her friend Dolores in Full Medical, to Mary Jo Melendez in Muddlin’ Through, my most recent book.  Detective Castilblanco is surely an old friend by now.

So, dear reader, help us celebrate this special month.  Eat, drink, and be merry with our Hispanic brethren.  You’ll enjoy it.  I know I will!

***

[The following is a translation of the above to Spanish.  My writing skills in Spanish are probably not as good as my speaking skills.  Disculpame, por favor.]

Debo preguntar a Google porque este mes no apparezca en su bandera de hoy para recordarme (tiene jovenes quienes recuerdan cosas mejor que yo), pero hoy comienza el Mes de la Herencia Hispanica.  Nuestro mes festivo corre desde hoy hasta el 15 de octubre.

Digo “nuestro” porque quiero todas las cosas hispanicas—sin ser hispanico.  La comida, musica, y otros aspectos de la cultura.  Paises hispanicos con sus pasajes lindos, gentes alegres, y abilidad asombrosa para estar optimistas durante tiempos problematicos.  Me criaron un papa y mama en California y la comida tipica le gusto mucho a ellos.  El camino principal por mi ciudad universitaria w llamo Embarcadero del Norte.  Hablo buen espanol y quiero mucho a la musica del idioma porque vivia en Colombia, Sur America, durante diez anos y visitaba muchos paises de America del Sur.

Cree Ud. que las cataratas del Niagara son expectaculares?  Entonces no ha estado Ud. a las del Iguazu o visto la Gargantua del Diablo.  Nuestras montanas, las Sierra Nevadas y los Rockys, son impresionantes pero no comparan a los Andes, esa cadena masiva que rompe por los cielos del America del Sur desde Colombia hasta Chile.  Le gusta la pelicula Los Piratas del Caribe?  San Juan, Puerto Rico y Cartagena, Colombia tienen fortalezas antiguas que revisitan esos dias.  En la segunda ciudad, las mamas ya podrian asustar los ninos para obedecer utilizando el nombre del pirata Drake.

Como escritor, me gusta leer tambien.  He leido muy buen libros escritos en espanol, notablemente ellos de Garcia Marquez.  (Mi libro Survivor of the Chaos tiene lo que considero un homage al realismo magico, aunque algunos quiza lo llamarian paranormal.)  Un libro sobre la Guerra Sucia en Argentina esta en “Steve’s Bookshelf.”  Y he incluido caracteres con herencia hispanica en mis novelas, desde Jay Sandoval y su amiga Dolores en Full Medical hasta Mary Jo Melendez en Muddlin’ Through, mi novela mas receinte.  El detective Castilblanco debe ser un buen amigo ahora.

Asi, querido lector, ayudenos celebrar este mes especial.  Come, bebe, y este alegre en compania con nuestros hermanos hispanicos.  Le gustara.  A mi tambien!

[In case you haven’t noticed, this is the 30^th anniversary of Ghostbusters, a classic bit of tomfoolery set in New York City.  Here’s some tomfoolery that’s a wee bit more serious.  It also happens far removed from NYC.  Enjoy!]

The Flying Dutchman

Steven M. Moore

Copyright 2014

                Call me cynical.  Or, paranoid.  I knew there was something wrong when I stepped aboard the Huang Cheng.  It was a bit too clean, for one thing.  Freighters carry freight.  While medical supplies might be in pristine, sealed containers, general freight containers leave their spoor behind like wild beasts from some primitive planet.  True, the starship had a passenger section where anyone could save some money by flying like freight (that anyone had to be an oxygen-breathing ET in our case, of course).  That section was a cut above the crew’s in quality of accomodations, but not much (with each stateroom adaptable to different ETs).

I’d been on a doomed ship before.  Once I ended up in cryosleep in planetary orbit in an escape pod, being picked up a few centuries later by pure chance by an ITUIP explorer ship.  Obregon, the doctor who brought me out of cryo, started calling me Methuselah.  Never could get him to explain that.  Could hardly pronounce it even.  Never looked it up in a database either.  I felt that same sense of doom in the Huang Cheng.

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Recent history, let’s say 1950s on, hasn’t been kind to our stupid foreign policy mantra that “the enemy of my enemy is my friend,” especially in the Middle East.  We created the Shah in Iran as a favor to the Brits, toppling a democratically elected regime there, and we’re still paying for it.  We armed al Qaeda to fight the Russians in Afghanistan, and we’re still paying for it.  We “saved” Iraq from Saddam Hussein, who, for all his faults, held all that country’s factions together.  Dubya, Cheney, and Rumsfeld, in their greedy little minds, only saw dollar signs from Iraqi oil.  They really did nothing to contribute to democracy or a stable government there.  And we’re still paying for it!

While my last post on this subject encouraged Obama to bomb the hell out of ISIS everywhere possible, including Syria, and a second beheading only underlines the need to stop these mad dogs, it’s high time we rethink our foreign policy mantra.  Its corollary seems to be “When you choose friends that way, watch out!”  Yes, air strikes are needed against ISIS now.  No doubt about it.  But there are other priorities to worry about.

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