A tweet from the Horror Writers Association has alerted me to the fact that only 10 days remain to get in those Stoker Award recommendations. Which means it’s time for me to alert any voting members out there of my lone eligible piece of fiction from 2014—the short story “An Most Extraordinary Man,” which originally appeared in the anthology The Monkey’s Other Paw: Revived Classic Stories of Dread and the Dead from NonStop Press.

If you happen to be one of those voting members, and would like to read the story for Stoker consideration, drop me a note and I’ll be glad to shoot a copy off to you.

But all of you, whether HWA member or not, can give a listen to me reading the piece aloud back in 2012 at the Chicago Worldcon.

I only hope Saki isn’t spinning in his grave …

If you scored a new television this holiday season, either as a gift or from a sale, you’re probably figuring you’ll have no problems with it, that it’ll perform perfectly for you until technology overtakes it and you decide to dump it for an even cooler screen. But TVs didn’t used to be that reliable, at least not according to the TV Owners Guide that could be purchased for $1.98 from an ad in the back of Web of Evil #1 (November 1952)

How unreliable were they? So unreliable that a selling point for the book was that if you followed the advice inside, “You may actually have to call a repairman only once a year!”

Only once a year? As someone who’s never called a television repairman ever, it’s hard to imagine a time when needing only a single annual visit would be considered a wonder.

How bad were things for owners of TV sets in 1952? According to the ad, the book’s $1.98 price was “less than 1/2 the cost of a single service call.” And “you can save the $30-$60 service fees you are now paying, and you can save most of your $10-$15 repair bills.” Take inflation into account, and those ’50s TVs turn into a money sink.

So let’s all be very grateful we’re living in 2015 and not 1952. After all, you wouldn’t want to have to see this guy all the time …

While driving to the post office this afternoon, I caught up with The Writer’s Almanac, a podcast on which I’m way behind. So I only today got to hear the following inspirational quote read by Garrison Keillor on November 22, 2014, which was André Gide’s 145th birthday:

Gide’s advice was—

Do not do what someone else could do as well as you. Do not say, do not write what someone else could say, could write as well as you. Care for nothing in yourself but what you feel exists nowhere else. And, out of yourself create, impatiently or patiently, the most irreplaceable of beings.

I’ll do my best to keep that in mind as I move forward.

Last night I had a dream too convoluted to be shared only as a tweet, which means a full post is necessary …

So there I was in the world of Mad Men, working for Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce, and something was up. A big meeting was called, everyone who worked for the company was there, and at the front of the room, all of the big shots like Don Draper, Roger Sterling, and Bert Cooper were seated at a long table.

Bert gave me a “you’re supposed to be up here” look, which surprised me, as I didn’t realize I was that important. So I joined him at the table, and was beside him as he opened his briefcase and removed a set of index cards. He explained that the firm was in trouble, and the only way to save it was if we visited every client over the next day to prove how much their business meant to us. He handed out the cards so we each had our assignments.

Cut to Peggy Olson’s apartment later that night, where I arrived with others to strategize. I looked around the room and saw she had many comic books laying around, and talked with her briefly about that, because I had no idea she was into them. But we had no time for a lengthy discussion, and so got down to business. (more…)

The year 2014 contained an amazing amount of good food eaten across three continents (plus one island that was 2,182 miles away from any continent). Looking back on those meals to winnow down my 10 favorite dishes of the year, my decision on whether or not to include a dish came down to questions such as these—

Did its pleasures go beyond conscious thought? Was my appreciation more than just intellectual admiration for the talents of the chef?

If you’d been nearby, and if your eyes had been closed, would I have confused you, because my groans would have made you assume you were present at an orgy rather than a meal?

Here the dishes which made me moan the loudest last year … (more…)

Now that the end of 2014 is only hours away, I thought I’d take a look at which posts of mine received the most traffic this year. In doing so, I learned several things—

The long tail is in play. Only seven of the top 20 posts were original to 2014. Four were from 2013, three from 2012, four from 2011, one from 2010, and one from all the way back in 2008.

My food posts are popular. Nine of the top 20 were food-related.

Also—the Internet continues to miss its father, as my 2011 post about missing my Dad on his birthday was the third most popular post this year, even though it first appeared in 2011.

In case you’re interested in clicking on what others thought worth clicking on, here’s 2014’s Top 20, in order of popularity:

My despair is more than just an ornament (2014)

Another reason I love Dave Gibbons (and continue to hate Roy Lichtenstein) (2013)

Happy birthday, Dad. I still miss you. (2011)

Gaze upon Astrid y Gaston’s menu and prepare to salivate (2012)

A few words in defense of Jack Kirby, Sal Buscema, Irv Novick, and other anonymized artists (2011)

How slut-shaming went down (and was smacked down) in a 1954 romance comic (2014)

My brisket pilgrimage to Franklin BBQ (2013)

A deliciously inventive dinner at Boragó, the best restaurant in Chile (2014)

Reliving our magnificent meal at Vienna’s Steirereck im Stadtpark (2013)

Thank you, Sansaire, for the best steak I’ve ever cooked (2014)

No evil may escape my sight (2008)

Next, Alinea, The Aviary … and the greatest amuse bouche the universe ever gave a foodie (2012)

Our joyous opening night at Riverstead (2014)

There’s nothing wrong with comic book mashups, smashups, allusions, tributes, or homages (2011)

Why a comic book isn’t a Hershey’s bar (2011)

Thank you, Astrid y Gaston, for the best meal of my life (2012)

A farewell to Robert Freedman, my oldest friend (2014)

1932: “Stop Crying, Start Buying” (2010)

And the winner of the best goulash in Vienna is … Cafe Landtmann! (2013)

Which side are you on? (2014)

Thanks for continuing to drop by. And have a great 2015, OK?

I’ve been reading the notes at the back of the Library of America’s 2012 compilation Kurt Vonnegut: Novels & Stories 1950–1962, because a) I get a kick out of that kind of thing and b) I’ve already read all of the novels and stories themselves. And I’m surprised by what the editors thought needed to be explained to me so I’d understand Vonnegut’s allusions.

Here are some things the Library of America thought I wouldn’t get without explication.

Rube Goldberg machine
Rosicrucians
Horatio on the bridge
Black Maria
Jim Thorpe
Maxfield Parrish
Tweety and Sylvester
Le Sacre du Printemps
The Protocols of the Elders of Zion
Mata Hari
Adolf Eichmann
Maxfield Parrish
Cyklon-B
Werner von Braun
Maggie and Jiggs

I did need to be told, however, that a Helen Twelvetrees is a “cocktail of Southern Comfort, ginger ale, and blackberry concentrate,” because I only know of her as a movie actress from the ’30s. But then, I don’t drink. I presume the non-teetotalers out there already know about it.

That being said … am I wrong to believe that anyone likely to pick up a copy of Kurt Vonnegut: Novels & Stories 1950–1962 is already aware of each of those people and things, making such explanations unnecessary? Or am I, unlike H. L. Mencken, overestimating the intelligence of the great masses?

When Disneyland—the first episode of what the world would later come to think of as The Wonderful World of Disney— premiered on October 27, 1954, no one thought to warn audiences of the racially insensitive content to come, such as Tinkerbell hopping around pretending to be Native American and footage of Uncle Remus from Song of the South.

But when it was rebroadcast last Sunday on TCM, an advisory was deemed necessary.

Here are the shocking sentences that appeared at the beginning of the program.

Were you as shocked as I was? And I don’t mean by existence of the apology itself. What I mean is … well …

Did you “accep” their apology?

Two typos, TCM? Really?

It’s been such a busy year that I fell behind in my reading of The Paris Review, to which I was given a lifetime subscription by my wife in 1979. (I wonder how long that subscription will last?) But I’ve been binge-reading the magazine this week, so I just caught up with in the Adam Phillips interview in the the Spring 2014 issue.

I’d never heard of Phillips, I’m embarrassed to say, but that doesn’t mean the interview wasn’t interesting, as all Paris Review interviews are.

Here’s the passage that stood out for me the most— (more…)

My October 2009 Flash Forward interview conducted by Mike Zipser recently got tossed onto YouTube, so you no longer have to search for it in their archives. Which means it’s easier for you to see who I was and what I thought I was doing with my life five years ago. (As opposed to who I was and what I thought I was doing with my life twenty-four years ago, when John Pomeranz interviewed me for the same show in 1990.)

As I watch this, the one thing I wish I could go back in time to whisper into my ear is—Chill out, dude! Relax.

I don’t know how I sound in that video to you, but to me, I seem to be in a race, talking much too quickly, and rushing to squeeze as many words as possible into the time allotted, which I think can only unsettle an audience.

Maybe none of that is there, and my reaction is simply the one we all tend to have to the sounds of our own voices.

But I think not. What do you think?