I was once in New York, and I listened to a talk about the building of private prisons – a huge growth industry in America. The prison industry needs to plan its future growth – how many cells are they going to need? How many prisoners are there going to be, 15 years from now? And they found they could predict it very easily, using a pretty simple algorithm, based on asking what percentage of 10 and 11-year-olds couldn’t read. And certainly couldn’t read for pleasure.
In my experience, writers tend to be really good at the inside of their own heads and imaginary people, and a lot less good at the stuff going on outside, which means that quite often if you flirt with us we will completely fail to notice, leaving everybody involved slightly uncomfortable and more than slightly unlaid.
So I would suggest that any attempted seduction of a writer would probably go a great deal easier for all parties if you sent them a cheerful note saying “YOU ARE INVITED TO A SEDUCTION: Please come to dinner on Friday Night. Wear the kind of clothes you would like to be seduced in.”
And alcohol may help, too. Or kissing. Many writers figure out that they’re being seduced or flirted with if someone is actually kissing them.
Q:Is the War Doctor now considered as the canonical Ninth Doctor?
I don’t really understand the question. I’m tempted to say something like, “No, the John Hurt War Doctor is just something that happened in THE NAME OF THE DOCTOR, THE NIGHT OF THE DOCTOR and THE DAY OF THE DOCTOR on television.”
If it happens on the TV, it’s canonical, unless it isn’t. (For example, no-one seems entirely sure whether we get to see pre-Hartnell regenerations during the mindbending battles of Brain of Morbius.)
We now know there was a regeneration between the Paul McGann Eighth Doctor and the Chris Ecclestone Ninth Doctor, one whom the Doctor himself has only just begun to regard as being The Doctor (as opposed to being something else).
If you mean, “Do we now all have to agree to renumber all the Doctors?”, I think the main purpose of numbering things is to communicate, and we all know who we mean when we say Doctors NIne, Ten or Eleven. If anyone corrects you and says “You mean TWELFTH!” when you say “Matt Smith was the eleventh Doctor” then that person is being irritatingly pedantic and should be pitied, in a nice way and with a gentle friendly, not-patronising sort of love, because they will have long hard lives ahead of them.
I say this with a tremendous amount of respect, but I think we all see that you did not answer the question
I say this with an equal amount of respect*: If you think I didn’t answer the question I suggest you reread both the question and my answer.
*And I’d add, you do realise that “with the greatest respect” is often English for “you’re an idiot”, don’t you?
Archbishop James Usher (1580-1656) published Annales Veteris et Novi Testaments in 1654, which suggested that the Heaven and the Earth were created in 4004 B.C. One of his aides took the calculation further, and was able to announce triumphantly that the Earth was created on Sunday the 21st of October, 4004 B.C., at exactly 9:00 A.M., because God liked to get work done early in the morning while he was feeling fresh.
This too was incorrect. By almost a quarter of an hour.
The whole business with the fossilized dinosaur skeletons was a joke the paleontologists haven’t seen yet.
This proves two things:
Firstly, that God moves in extremely mysterious, not to say, circuitous ways. God does not play dice with the universe; He plays an ineffable game of His own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players, [ie., everybody.] to being involved in an obscure and complex version of poker in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won’t tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time.
Secondly, the Earth’s a Libra.
Good Omens, Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett
Mandatory October 21st post.
Happy birthday, Earth.
Some people point out that it’s Ussher with two S’s. But the Encyclopedia Britannica said it only had one S, so that was how we spelled it.
October in the Chair on Flickr.
"It’s fine," said October. His beard was all colors, a grove of trees in autumn, deep brown and fire-orange and wine-red, an untrimmed tangle across the lower half of his face. His cheeks were apple-red. He looked like a friend; like someone you had known all your life. "September can go first. Let’s just get it rolling."
-Neil Gaiman “October in the Chair”
Neil Gaiman has decided it’s time for us to create a new Halloween tradition called,All Hallow’s Read. The premise, as you will hear in the video, is to give someone a scary book to read for Halloween. It’s that simple and I love it!
It was about time someone came up with a new and wonderful tradition for Halloween.
I’ve already begun thinking of which books I am going to gift this year.
What’s your favorite scary book? Which one would you choose to gift?
2013. it’s coming again…
Give someone a scary book for Hallowe’en. Watch the video. It explains everything.
People talk about escapism as if it’s a bad thing …once you’ve escaped, once you come back, the world is not the same as when you left it. You come back to it with skills, weapons, knowledge you didn’t have before.
I wanted to put a reference to masturbation in one of the scripts for the Sandman. It was immediately cut by the editor. She told me, “There’s no masturbation in the DC Universe.” To which my reaction was, “Well that explains a lot about the DC Universe.”
“After years together, he handed her a book. It was her favorite book, “Neverwhere” by Neil Gaiman. She opened to the first page to find a note. “Hello Ashley… Out of interest, what would you say to marrying Brad? – Neil Gaiman” And just like that, they were engaged.”
Steven Moffat, who is the current man behind Doctor Who…the showrunner, the impressario, the God…has trained squads of Ninja Assassins. Probably there are a couple of people in this audience tonight who are plants.If I actually got to the point of saying ‘OK, I will tell you what you want to know’…something would happen. And then I would crumble. Smoking gently, probably. A mysterious black figure would exit and next be seen in Cardiff, saying ‘Mission accomplished’. Steven Moffat would go ‘Good. And he didn’t say anything?’ And the figure would say ‘No’. I tell you NOTHING.