F**K YOU, Dead Writers!

The other day I was reading some commentary on George R.R. Martin’s FAILURE to meet his latest installment’s deadline and about how concerned he was regarding fan reaction.

Then, this morning, I was reading the comments to David Gerrold’s latest analysis of the CBS vs Axanar lawsuit and was reminded of David’s FAILURE to get the latest War with the Chtorr novel out – for 23 years,

And THAT reminded me of Harlan Ellison’s FAILURE to finish up a certain anthology I don’t dare mention by name for fear of invoking the wrath of Elcin, the wind god.

And THEN I was reminded of the fact that these living icons of science fictional disappointment are pikers compared to some.

You can not imagine how absolutely apoplectic I am about Robert A Heinlein.  Or Arthur C. Clarke.  Not to mention Ray Bradbury, Isaac Asimov, Eric Frank Russell, Fred Pohl, A. Bertram Chandler, Leigh Brackett, Joanna Russ, Octavia Butler, Henry Kuttner, Judith Merrill, C.L Moore, Doc Smith, Hamilton, Campbell, Bester, Chalker, Zelazny, Henderson, McCaffrey, Farmer, ….

You’re all dead and now you’ll NEVER finish ANYTHING!

So F**K YOU for sucking me in.  F**K YOU for entertaining me and filling my head with wonder.  F*CK YOU for writing so well and so interestingly that you captured my interest.  F*CK YOU for all the time and dollars I wasted supporting your creative efforts. I want a refund!

You lazy bunch of procrastinating mental-cock-teasers.   You exemplars of fan disappointment.  You’re all finalists for the first ever Hugo Awards for non-completion. GRMM’s travel interferes with his writing?  Hah!  He’ll be back.  But not this bunch.  Oh no.  They’ve taken a slow boat to the riverworld and there’s not a typewriter, nor a pen, nary a single sheet of paper to be found among them.

They’ve chosen to stop writing.  Why?  They’re tired…They don’t feel up to it…nothing inspires them any more…they can’t keep up with the changing society…technology is advancing too fast for them…they need a vacation…they can’t write while lying down…no one thought to supply them with a typer…the mail doesn’t pick up anymore…

Oh Boo freakin Hoo.  You all could write your way out of the collapse of galactic civilizations, being trapped in black holes, the extinction of half of the human species, but you let a little thing like death get in your way?

You all just wait.  Next time I see you, I WON’T be asking for your autograph!