Adaptive Curmudgeon

Attack Of The Lesbian Activist Squirrels: Conclusion Of Chapter Six

Yesterday’s post concluded Attack of the Lesbian Activist Squirrels: Chapter Six: Adult Situations With Differential Equations. Nothing lasts forever and you’ve read to the end of what I’ve written. I hope you liked the story so far.

You know those guys who write books; actual published authors. I wanna’ be like them when I grow up. Unfortunately, it’s just as hard as it sounds. At this stage, my battered and marked up hardcopy of the story clocks in at around 249 coffee stained pages. Damn… that’s a lot of work! Authors are clearly dedicated sons a bitches because writing a book is hard!

Because it’s 2020, I’d like to mention I’ve posted 65,000 +/- words and there’s not a single damn one cajoling you to do… anything. The world needs stories that start, entertain, and end without once demanding control of you or your tax dollars. Would that the propaganda mills and Karen-bots stampeding lemming-like to the tune of their own insecurities simply create good stories. Then again, it’s a lot harder to create than complain.

A person who can destroy but not create will do you no good. Knowing this allows one to dodge a lot of hokum.

A mea culpa: I created a self imposed rule of favoring metaphors above the ephemeral weirdness of the daily hubbub but dove under the bar to mock Paul Krugman. A kinder man might take the high road I’d planned but I’m an asshole and simply felt like it. Also, I couldn’t figure out a way to weave the galactic incorrectness of Paul Ehrlich into the story. A story about bullshit that failed to mention both Krugman and Ehrlich is unthinkable. You can’t have intellectual error without those two any more than you can have Thor without a hammer. Forgive me.

Don’t worry about the future, more chapters will follow and (no matter what the dipshits on TV say) you’re likely to get a chance to read them. The free ice cream machine just needs a little downtime; a fishing trip or three, a vacation, or perhaps I need to get a puppy. Soon enough, I’ll write again. After all, 2020 is a year of exquisite stupidity; so muses abound. (If you haven’t noticed the power of bullshit you haven’t been looking out the window.)

In the meantime, I’ve got a special treat. I’ve already written a rough draft of chapter seven! It’s not yet ready for primetime, but I’m putting it up for public view anyway. If you want a peek behind the curtain, this is your chance. You’re welcome to click here.

That is all for now and thanks to everyone for their generous support.

A.C.

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