Inhuman Swill : Page 115
Why is my blog called Inhuman Swill? Because you can unscramble the pieces to make William Shunn.

How do they do it?

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I know how much trouble I have getting anything done on days I post in the ol' LiveJournal. So how do the hardcore bloggers manage to get anything else done?

A mystery for the ages.

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ShunnCast #14

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Epidode #14 of "ShunnCast" is now available, in which I and my trainer Elder Fowler knock on many doors in search of elusive gold, stumbling at last upon a fairytale cottage and the irresistible enchantress within.

http://www.shunn.net/podcast?id=14

See also [info]shunncast.

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April's CD mix of the month

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The veil beyond the mountain

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Electronic copies of two more new old stories have gone on sale at Fictionwise this week:

Each under a dollar! What a steal! Or collect all twelve!

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Fuzzy and blue

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Laura and Telly
This post is really only an excuse to use my new icon. Funny story, though. I took Laura to the set of Sesame Street early in our relationship to watch an afternoon's taping. Of the many Muppeteers on set that day, Marty Robinson was either by far the most voluble or by far the least busy. (Probably the former.) Between takes, he and his special friend Telly hung out with us at the edge of the set, and he even convinced the rather nervous Telly to pose for some pictures with us.

Laura took my picture with Telly pressed close behind my shoulder. Then we switched places, Telly put his fuzzy purple arm around Laura, and I took this snap:

The instant I lowered the camera, Laura's mouth become a stunned O. She said, almost in wonder, "Telly just grabbed my ass."


Update!  Click me!
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Fuzz amongst the tulips

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Fuzz amongst the tulips 1
This was the scene Laura called me to see out our back door this morning. She was already there taking pictures:

Our tulips, which we didn't plant but were just waiting for us, under the ground, have been opening slowly in sequence from the front of the yard to the back along the north fence, then from the north to south along the back fence. This reflects the amount of sun falling on each portion of the yard. There are yellow and pink tulips along the side, red along the back. Ella likes to lounge amongst them. If you look closely enough, you can see the fallen soldier she has crushed beneath her monstrous fuzzy body.

Ella went to the groomer yesterday. The cut will look good once it's grown out a little and gotten some curl back. But for now she is soft as satin.

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The whole shack shimmies

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Man, I love the Shake Shack, but I hate those lines! Nothing like a nice 11:00 a.m. breakfast of champions.

Apparently I'm not the only one.

I haven't managed to get out to the Shack yet this season, but when I do you can be sure I'll be in that early, early crowd.

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This 'n that

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The Google logo today for Joan Miró is quite lovely.

The more I read about the rescue operation for the passengers stranded on the Roosevelt Island tram a couple of days ago, the happier I am that I never did get around to riding it. Laura and I always talked about how pleasant it would be to ride our bikes over to Roosevelt Island and then take the tram over to the Upper East Side for a movie and some food. And the weather is just getting to the point where we might have started talking about it again. Not now, though.

A lovely reading at KGB last night with [info]nihilistic_kid and [info]14theditch was marred only by the fact that I spent most of Jeff's reading slumped over the bar trying to hold onto a) consciousness and b) my dinner. Seems my enthusiasm for our pre-reading conclave at d.b.a. was a tad too enthusiastic, and while I outdistanced them for a time, those three single-malts (Auchentoshan 21, Ardbeg 10, and Glenfarclas 10) and three Arrogant Bastard Ales all caught up with me at the reading and tried sloshing themselves everywhere. (Thanks for the scotch nonetheless, Jeff, and it was great get a chance to hang out for a while.) (And great to see you, as always, [info]asphalteden! Thanks for coming!) Laura heroically fetched me fish and chips from A Salt and Battery around the corner, and I managed to hold it together. But sadly I didn't catch most of Jeff's story, and I don't remember half of the cab ride home. Thank Cthulhu I don't go crazy like that very often. (Nick, sorry I didn't get a chance to introduce myself. I did have to rush off awfully fast afterward.) (Good to see you there too, [info]slushmaster. I hope I was not as much of an ass in my alcoholic stupor as I seem to recall.)

But one great thing I did take home was a slightly advance copy of the US edition of Hal Duncan's Vellum from Jim Minz. It comes out next Tuesday, I believe. I can't wait to dig into it, as soon as I'm done with all my reading for the Blue Heaven workshop.

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In a recent Craigslist posting, a dominant male businessman requests a Secretary-like secretary who, in addition to being able to take dictation and a good paddling with equal aplomb, must be discrete.

One presumes that this distinct and differentiated individual will also be discerning and prudent enough to gently inform her new master boss that the word he's looking for is discreet.

(Via Gawker.)

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Stalin's feast

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Electronic copies of two more new old stories have gone on sale at Fictionwise this week:

Mere pennies! Or collect all ten!

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The Accidental Terrorist 30th Anniversary Sale

Signed editions
that even a
missionary
could afford.

Order yours now!

William Shunn

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