The weekend, in bullet point form:
* My weekend was primarily taken up with the ConFusion convention up in Michigan, which most of you know I consider to be my “home” convention (it was the first non-Worldcon convention I ever attended and the only convention I’ve been to each year since). The convention for me was generally lovely and also low-key. As I’m mostly taking the year off from official convention activities, I only did a couple of programming items. I unfortunately had to skip out on my last programming item and leave the convention early for a reason I will detail in a moment. Regardless, an enjoyable time as always, with some of my favorite people, and I’m glad to have gone. The above photo, incidentally, taken by Sam Sykes.
* My weekend was unfortunately cut a bit short because this morning I woke up at 5am with my mouth feeling as if someone had taken a chisel to one of my bicuspids. This is a not fun feeling, in case you are wondering. Because of it, we headed home early so I could be attended to by my dentist, who rather graciously came into office on a Sunday so that I would not have to be in agony until the next business day. The end result was a root canal, which while not fun was also not nearly as awful a procedure as I had always assumed it was, which I chalk up to expert dentistry. Now I’m at home, pumped up on amoxicillin and ibuprofen. This is the life, I’m telling you. It is, at the very least, far better than alternative.
* One of the things that I did at ConFusion was do yet another cover pose for Jim C. Hines Aicardi Foundation fundraiser, and this time Jim and I were joined by some friends: Charlie Stross, Pat Rothfuss and Mary Robinette Kowal. The results of this cover pose are available for your perusal here. Please note: At least fifty shades of pasty await you. I’m totally not kidding.
* On the way home from ConFusion today I received a concerned phone call from a good friend, who informed me that someone had just posted something about me online that to his eye was entirely libelous; he then gave me a brief rundown on the piece. It appears the racist sexist homophobic dipshit who has an adorable little mancrush on me has been spinning up his racist sexist homophobic dipshit blog readers yet again with a typically gibbering gout of stupidity, with my name inserted into it at some point.
I told my friend not to worry about it. Aside from it being just another example of this particular racist sexist homophobic dipshit trying to work out his adorable little mancrush issues in public, it’s probably not libel. One of the pillars of libel is that what’s being written has to effect material damage on the person allegedly being libeled. I experience no material damage in this case, because no one actually gives a shit what this particular racist sexist homophobic dipshit has to say about anything, other than his merry band of racist sexist homophobic dipshit readers. And why would I care what any of those racist sexist homophoblic dipshits think about me? They’re racist sexist homophobic dipshits. The racist sexist homophobic dipshit market is one I’m willing to lose.
I imagine that one day the racist sexist homophobic dipshit with the adorable little mancrush on me will finally figure himself out. Until then, I suppose his adorable little mancrush on me is cheaper than therapy. So mancrush on, you racist sexist homophobic dipshit. Because it’s adorable, and I get a giggle about just how much you can’t quit me.