Inhuman Swill : Page 126
Why is my blog called Inhuman Swill? Because you can unscramble the pieces to make William Shunn.

The fourth wolf

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Okay, some higher-quality excerpts from my Saturday appearance on Jim Freund's "Hour of the Wolf" are up and available on my site. Find 'em here. And find earlier appearances here.

And don't miss the cameo by our own [info]steelbrassnwood! (Or at least by a recording of his. Thanks, Ken!)

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From the WBAI archive

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I'm still working on getting some higher-quality excerpts from my appearance yesterday on "Hour of the Wolf" posted to my site, but in the meantime you can stream the two-hour program in its entirety from the WBAI archive.

But hurry! It'll only be available there for 13 weeks!

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Saturday on your radio

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I will be the late-breaking guest on Jim Freund's "Hour of the Wolf" this coming Saturday, September 24, from 5:00 to 7:00 in the A.M on WBAI 99.5 FM. (I'll likely read a new story-in-progress called "Objective Impermeability in a Closed System.") Then stick around, as taped readings from Symphony Space with Susanna Clarke and Neil Gaiman will follow from 7:00 to 8:30 A.M.

Tune in if you can, or listen online, but don't despair if you can't. WBAI now archives its broadcasts.

(It'll be my fourth appearance on the show. Does this make me a regular?)

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I just received email from John Kerry which said, in part:

Monday, I shared with you my Brown University speech setting out what needs to be said and done at this critical moment for our country. Today, in that same spirit of clarity and conviction, I want to tell you how I will vote on the nomination of John Roberts to serve as Chief Justice of the United States.

I will vote against this vitally important nomination.

Excuse me, Senator? It's vitally important yet you're voting against it?

Okay, yes, I know what you're trying to say, but clarity, please! You sound like a Saturday Night Live parody of yourself.

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September's CD mix of the month

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The police were inspecting bags at the 30th Avenue subway station in Astoria this morning. Little table set up off to one side of the turnstiles. Maybe this makes some people feel safe (particularly people who don't ride the subways), but it only makes me feel as if there's danger near, and as if I myself am under suspicion. And I resent feeling that way in America when I'm just going about my own business and doing nothing wrong.

As I walked past the makeshift inspection station, heart in my throat, trying to look casual, I rehearsed in my mind what I would say if the police asked to look in my somewhat lumpy shoulder bag (which, by the way, contains nothing more incendiary than books, magazines, and a bunch of mix discs from last night's CDMOM):

"I'm sorry, officer, but I'd rather walk."

I didn't have to, but I don't like the fact that I might have had to. And for what? For the sake of discouraging some theoretical bomb-carrying terrorist from boarding the train at 30th Avenue and forcing him to walk two blocks to Broadway instead? Ooooh, I feel so much safer now, and it only cost a few pennies in civil liberties.

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This meme was brought to you via [info]holyoutlaw:

You are a
Social Liberal (68% permissive)
and an...
Economic Liberal (25% permissive)
You are best described as a:

Democrat


Link: The Politics Test on OkCupid Free Online Dating

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Sure, everyone's got baggage, but...

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So I'm getting onto an extremely crowded 6 train this morning at 59th St./Lexington, moving smoothly across the train through the narrow corridor left in the wake of the commuters just debarked, when suddenly I trip and am falling, falling toward two stout women and a baby. I catch myself inches from disaster—and believe me, this is a pratfall worthy of Dick Van Dyke in the making—by grabbing the pole directly between the two women, and I mutter a faint "Sorry," abashed.

Then I look down to see what I tripped over. Their shoulder bags, arrayed all around them on the floor.

Now I don't feel so stupid about tripping. What I feel stupid about is apologizing.

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It's not been exactly a relaxing day at the office, but something I just witnessed down on Park Avenue sure amped the stress. As I stood at the corner, waiting to cross, I looked left and saw a big SUV pulling to a stop at the curb just up from me. Just ahead of the front right tire, as the vehicle rolled forward, a pigeon was waddling as fast as its leg would carry it, looking for all the world like Harrison Ford running from a tumbling boulder. The gap between bird and rubber narrowed, and my heart leaped into my throat as suddenly the tire brushed the pigeon's tailfeathers.

The pigeon fell forward, wings spread, and I was sure I was about to see it crushed. But the wings fluttered and the pigeon jumped to the side, strutting away beneath the SUV as if trying to prove that nothing could ruffle its feathers. The only thing that would have made the moment more harrowing is if the pigeon had reached back under the tire for its hat.

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A game of cylinders

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There's still an hour or so left in the bidding for my Heidelberg Cylinder auction at eBay.

Also, I've just listed a first-edition, first-printing hardcover of George R. R. Martin's A Game of Thrones.

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