Ten Predictions

  1. As fans start preparing to head over to the INB Performing Arts Center, they will hear a strange buzzing sound and look out the window to see Big Gay Steve, wearing goggles and a rippling white scarf, circling the Doubletree in a biplane trailing a banner that reads, “Am I banned yet?”

  2. To break the ice, David Gerrold will throw Nerf Tribbles at the audience, sing nyah-nyah-nyah, and then ask, “What?”

  3. As the Campbell Award winner (Kary English) is announced, stealth puppies will project a giant hologram of Vox Day’s disembodied head. It will hover over the stage long enough to inform the crowd that it doesn’t care about them at all, then disappear. Laughter will continue to echo throughout the evening.

  4. Jeffro Johnson will not be able to accept his award for Best Fan Writer in person because he is prepping a BBQ pit in a parking lot across the street, but he will send a message that all are welcome – bring your own beer, torches and pitchforks.

  5. In a stunning upset, all the rest of the Hugos will go to Mike Glyer, who will promise to distribute them as equitably as he can at the next File 770 Meetup, especially to those who don’t have a pretentious liberal arts degree.

  6. At the Hugo Losers’ Party, George RR Martin will suddenly pull off his mask, revealing himself to be Tuomas Vainio.

  7. Buwaya will surface from the punch bowl, regard the room dramatically while dripping, and walk out, muttering that he is going to look for a “real man’s book.”

  8. John C. Wright and L. Jagi Lamplighter, who had arrived early to get front row seats, will return home and blog that they had a wonderful time at Sasquan and made a lot of new friends.

  9. A week later, Mid-AmeriCon II will announce the special award category for 2016: Best Mascot.

  10. The Hugo Awards will continue to circle endlessly in the Gyre of FUD.

– Will R. and Brian Z


Life and Opinions

I wish either my father or my mother, or indeed both of them, had minded what they were about when they begot me. Pray my Dear, quoth my mother, have you not forgot to write up the LoC?—Great Ghu! cried my father, licking an envelope, but taking care to collate his zine at the same time,—Did ever supporting members, since the creation of the Worldcon, interrupt a fan with such a silly question?



From the dark barriers of the culture wars,
E’en to the centre of Torlandia’s vales,
Childe Gerrold skimmed o’er many a rant of boors,
Through roundups brimming with hysteric tales:
Yet in famed Sadland blow the fannish gales
Not quite so fierce; nor can grim Torcott boast
A mob they have not; Rabidonia fails,
Though surly ground, and castigated most,
To match the sites that link back to this Twittering coast.

Map of the 2015 Puppy Kerfuffle [Update]

Camestros Felapton

The revised version is here. Thanks to File770 folks for suggestions and also thanks to the puppy love for the map. Maps are the ultimate political statement disguised at an attempt at objective fact – so please see this as this particular socialist’s skewed perspective (but I’ve attempted some fairness). Some have expressed concern regarding relative sizes of land – do not be misled! It is the seas that represent fandom 🙂 and we all sail upon them – or we are merpeople or maybe selkies or something.

I’ve also included some sites mentioned in Kate Paulk’s recent account of how she saw the kerfuffle. Publishing houses appear as Greek-style temples. I’ve stuck with the crossed swords for places where significant disputes were centered or notable discussions or announcements took place. Places beyond greater fandom are marked as being off the map with green arrows.

Stage 3 will be a…

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For Cubist

In the Con where I was born / Lived a fan who failed to see / And he told us of his slate / And his rocket figurine

So we registered to vote / Till the slates became routine / Every August we would gloat / Over rocket figurines

We all gloat over rocket figurines / Rocket figurines, rocket figurines / We all gloat over rocket figurines / Rocket figurines, rocket figurines

And our friends are all on board / Many more of them live next door / And the band begins to play

We all gloat over rocket figurines / Rocket figurines, rocket figurines / We all gloat over rocket figurines / Rocket figurines, rocket figurines

[Full speed ahead, Mr. Boatswain, full speed ahead! / Full speed over here, sir!]

As we live a life of ease (A life of ease) / Everyone of us (Everyone of us) has all we need (Has all we need) / Sky of blue (Sky of blue) and sea of green (Sea of green) / With our rocket (With our rocket) figurines (Figurines, ha, ha)

We all gloat over rocket figurines / Rocket figurines, rocket figurines / We all gloat over rocket figurines / Rocket figurines, rocket figurines


Yesterday evening I returned from the boarding school at Castalia and I thought that I should like to go and look at my old haunts. I began to make enquiries about the present state of philosophy, and about the youth, whether any of them were remarkable for wisdom or beauty. Of the beauties, Wrightias said, I fancy that you will soon be able to form a judgment.

At that moment, I saw Camestros coming in. By Heracles, I said, there never was such a paragon, if he has only one other slight addition, a noble soul.

He is as fair and good within, as he is without, replied Wrightias. And at that moment all the people in the palaestra crowded about us, and, O rare! I caught a sight of the inwards of his garment, and took the flame.

But I controlled myself. Tell me, Camestros, I said, what, in your opinion, is Temperance?

He said, in my opinion, temperance is quietness.

Let us see whether these words have any meaning. Swiftness and activity are clearly better than slowness and quietness?

Clearly they are.

Then temperance is not quietness, nor is the temperate life quiet.

I think, he said, Socrates, that you are right.

Hear, then, I said, my dream: that the many, who are not as individuals excellent men, nevertheless can, when they have come together, be better than the few best people, not individually but collectively, just as feasts to which many contribute are better than feasts provided at one person’s expense. Let us suppose that we nominators are motivated by our love of the genre and desire to honor our authors. Fandom, thus provided, would collectively seek to identify excellence, and the wisdom of the crowd would emerge from our collaborative efforts. But whether a mylar-flecked algorithm that seeks to satisfy the demands of every subcommunity or squabbling, partisan faction is a better way to honor our cherished authors and make them happy, my dear Wrightias – this is the point which we have not yet been able to determine.

I think, Wrightias replied, that if we do not nominate that which we truly love, our beloved writers will hardly find the crown of happiness in anything else.

Did you love “The Day the World Turned Upside Down,” or anything of that sort?

God forbid. But I do believe that every fan should nominate whatever he or she thinks is great as a way to show respect, admiration and love for our hard-working and so often under-appreciated writers and editors, who, if I can try to put it delicately, did not get into this game for the money.

Then, I said, we are giving up the false equivalence between “winning” because we are privileged to have an opportunity to participate in reading and helping to select finalists for an award to honor our community’s cherished authors and afford them some small measure of happiness, and “winning” because some of the candidates we support defeat the opposition. And Camestros, I think indeed that there is a mistake, and that I must be a bad enquirer, for wisdom or temperance I believe to be really a great good; and happy are you, Camestros, if you certainly possess it. Wherefore examine yourself, and see whether you have this gift; for I would rather advise you to regard me simply as a fool who is never able to reason out anything; and to rest assured that the more wise and temperate you are, the happier you will be.


Sad Max: Furry Ode

It’s called Publisherworld.
It’s where Hugotown gets its

Oil, natural gas?


Puppies like those? Bullshit.

Puppy droppings. The lights,
the motors, the vehicles. . .

. . .all run by a high-powered
process called the wisdom of
the crowds. After reading a
lot and sharing what they love
with other fen, then
discussing it, they start to
converge on stuff that lots of
people think is worthy.

Hugos come from puppy droppings.

Have a look. Tell me what you

I see a big guy giving a little
guy a piggyback.

ScalziVoxday. They’re a unit.
They even share the same name.

The little one is called Scalzi.
He’s the brains. He runs
Publisherworld. The other one
is Voxday. He’s the muscle.
Together they can be very
powerful. They are also
arrogant. We want to keep
the brain, dump the body.

He’s big. Is he good?

He can beat most men with his

I want a closer look at him.
How do I get in there?

It’s a fan award. Download the

I know nothing about literary

You can shovel shit, can’t you?

Welcome to the elimination

Listen on! Listen on! This
is the truth of it. Pimpage
leads to campaigning, and
campaigning gets to warring.
And that was damn near
the death of us all. Look at
us now, busted up and
everyone talking about
Kratman. But we’ve learned
by the dust of them all.
Hugotown’s learned.

Now, when fen get to fighting,
it happens during elimination
rounds. And it finishes with
new selection rounds.

Ladies and gentlemen, boys
and girls. . .

. . .EPH time’s here!

EPH’s simple. It selects for
elimination things having shared
support from many fen for any
reason whatsoever.

Do you want jousts in which
innocent bystanders are
knocked down?

Do you think that organized
campaigns for a fan award
deserve to be rewarded with
one or two ballot slots?

Remember, no matter where you
go, there you are.

I know you won’t break the

There aren’t any.


Two fen enter, one fan leaves!


For Mike Glyer.

Hat tip: Glenn Hauman.