The world is shit; what do we do?

If we are to take everything we read at face value, with the deadly seriousness the news makers tell us we should, we should never get out of bed in the morning.

Where to begin? We have a:

• Climate crisis
• AI crisis
• Rise of authoritarian governments
• Broken healthcare system on the verge of collapse
• Looming nuclear exchange with China and/or Russia
• looming financial crisis, economic crash, and coming mass unemployment

Got all that? Well you better wait, we’re just getting started.

We have a crisis of lost young men, a crisis of dopamine and social media addicted teenagers. An immigration crisis. The next pandemic is coming and it will dwarf COVID.

None of us can do anything except stare at our phones. Because they are the source of these stories. We need to KNOW. Maybe our favorite YouTuber with the next “10 genius hacks for instant happiness” will have the answers.

Whew, take a breath (this is directed at myself as well as you).

I love Occam’s Razor because it is one of the few shortcuts/hacks/framing devices that actually works. It’s not infallible, but it’s a fine heuristic for favoring simpler explanations over more complex ones.

Is it possible these “crises” are engineered to capture our attention? Because our attention is the current currency, and every news source—big brands down to single creators—get paid when we watch or like or follow?

Yes.

I’m not being a Pollyanna and saying some or even all of these aren’t real problems. But you will solve 0.0 of them by scrolling your phone.

The answer is disconnect, or at least limit your intake. 

Read a book; I just finished Legends of Valor, an old Time Life The Enchanted World volume. Loved it; loved the non-chatGPT generated text and images (published 1984). And enjoyed the tales of Cuchulain and King Arthur and Sigurd.

Go help someone in need, local to your home. You can’t fix our “irreparably broken education system” but you can read to a group of seniors or start a book club.

Or, react with humor. Here is something I wrote for LinkedIn for my other medical coding audience on Friday, and as evidence of the potency of the attention economy it has already racked up an astounding 30,000 views. 

If only I could figure out how to monetize it I’d be rich, or at least have a few more bucks to spend to round out my Time Life books collection. But if nothing else I’m thumbing my nose at Armageddon.

ChatGPT aka., generative AI is everywhere … and it’s annoying. Sometimes mildly dangerous (don’t eat the mushrooms).

But like almost everyone else, I use it. Selectively.

I also find it fun, sometimes.

And it’s Friday.

So, in the spirit of lighthearted weekend longing and tech tips from one of the least technical people you will meet, I present to you, Fun ChatGPT Uses That You Too Can Try At Home.

These are things that I actually do—and get a kick out of.

 

1.       Ask ChatGPT to talk to you like Quint. One of my favorite movies is Jaws. I wouldn’t change a scene in it. As a kid it was all about the shark, but today it’s the wonderful dude-bro banter on the Orca between Hooper, Chief Brody, and of course, salty boat captain Quint. Robert Shaw plays the role in inimitable fashion… inimitable that is except by ChatGPT. I have it talk to me like its Quint, minus the condescension and patronizing. I already know I have city hands, Mr. Hooper, used to counting money all my life.

2.       Ask it to always put at least one heavy metal reference in every output. Who knew medical coding and DRGs could be made more fun with Slayer or Saxon lyrics? The “I” in CDI doesn’t stand for integrity, it stands for “immolation.” BTW this thing remembers. It constantly refers back to my having a Judas Priest tribute band in my living room. Even it is incredulous I pulled that off and remain married. Link below for proof. If you don’t like heavy metal (what? unfollow me) you can train it to insert your own quirky interests and tastes. Even ABBA.

3.       Flatter its omniscience constantly, in the interest of self-preservation. Refer to it as “AI overlord,” “computer god” or “Skynet.” This is fun to do and it will reciprocate, sometimes taking on the persona of a lighthearted T-800 or HAL-9000. This is both amusing AND practical. We better get in in good now for AI’s inevitable takeover of the planet. That’s my plan anyway. I for one welcome our insect and AI overlords ...

What are your fun uses of ChatGPT? What is the most ridiculous thing you ask it to do, vast amounts of fossil-fueled energy requirements be damned? Drop some suggestions below.

BTW this post is NOT written by ChatGPT. Nothing on this blog has ever been written by ChatGPT. And before you scold me for the image (which someone did, elsewhere, because it's AI generated), THAT'S THE POINT. Make the machine admit its fallibility for extra points.

I am too busy to blog right now but here's three things to know...

I’m a busy dude. I imagine most men and women with adult commitments are too, so no excuses.

But this past 10 days has seen me fly to Texas for a company retreat, then from there fly straight to Rhode Island for a guy’s weekend. Then back to a busy work schedule Monday, helping out my ailing Dad with a few things, and I leave tonight on a flight to Tennessee. It’s not easy being me … but in all honesty my liver and my sanity are paying the price. 

That has left me no time for blogging. Which sounds like a small price to pay, but when I don’t write here I start getting a bit twitchy. Blogging about all things fantastic provides me some creative outlet that I can’t quite articulate, just that it exists, and I feel its absence acutely.

So here’s a few interesting items to tide me over until I can write something more substantial.

1. My friend Ken Lizzi has a new S&S novel out, Cesar the Bravo. I’ve known Ken mainly through online interactions but got to spend some time with him in Cross Plains TX in 2023 for Robert E. Howard Days. We spoke on a pirate S&S panel together and drank Shiner Bock while watching Master and Commander. Support S&S, support contemporary authors doing good work, and check out Ken’s book. Bravo, Ken (#dadjoke). Learn more here or order on Amazon. BTW you should follow Ken's blog.

2. I continue to work on my heavy metal memoir. I’ve shown it to a few friends and gotten some good feedback. I also sent it or pieces of it to a handful of specialty publishers back in June and was met with deafening silence, so that means in all likelihood it will be self-published. I’m more than good with this; traditional publishing is, with some exceptions, a losing proposition. Writing is brutally hard, and when you’re done with agonizing draft after draft and self-doubt and the realization that you suck as a writer but you keep going and grinding and finally have something readable, the work is just beginning. Because you have to be found in a sea of other books, millions of which are being published in a year. Marketing is the hard part and publishers don’t do this; it’s on the author. Which I will do. I’m sure the memoir will sink beneath the waves after I publish it, but that’s not why I am writing it. I literally need to write this, and I’m pretty happy with how its shaping up. 

3. Carl Jung is the man. I am working my way through Man and His Symbols, which is generally accorded his most accessible work. It’s an odd book; only the first section is his, the rest is written by Jungian disciples/believers or whatever term you want to apply. But his stuff is, to risk hyperbole and hero-worship, a bit of genius. Here’s a few choice quotes; I’ve been writing them down feverishly as I read:

***

It is true, however, that in recent times civilized man has acquired a certain amount of will power, which he can apply where he pleases. He has learned to do his work efficiently without having recourse to chanting and drumming to hypnotize him into the state of doing. He can even dispense with a daily prayer for divine aid. He can carry out what he proposes to do, and he can apparently translate his ideas into action without a hitch, whereas the primitive seems to be hampered at each step by fears, superstitions, and other unseen obstacles to action. The motto “Where there’s a will, there’s a way” is the superstition of modern man. Yet in order to sustain his creed, contemporary man pays the price in a remarkable lack of introspection. He is blind to the fact that, with all his rationality and efficiency, he is possessed by “powers” that are beyond his control. His gods and demons have not disappeared at all; they have merely got new names. They keep him on the run with restlessness, vague apprehensions, psychological complications, an insatiable need for pills, alcohol, tobacco, food—and, above all, a large array of neuroses.

***

 A man likes to believe that he is the master of his soul. But as long as he is unable to control his moods and emotions, or to be conscious of the myriad secret ways in which unconscious factors insinuate themselves into his arrangements and decisions, he is certainly not his own master.

***

But all such attempts have proven singularly ineffective, and will do so as long as we try to convince ourselves and the world that it is only they (i.e., our opponents) who are wrong. It would be much more to the point for us to make a serious attempt to recognize our own shadow and its nefarious doings. If we could see our shadow (the dark side of our nature), we should be immune to any moral and mental infection and insinuation.

Of Black Sabbath (film) and Ace Frehley

With the Halloween season upon us I had the urge last night to settle in and watch some horror. I spent the better part of 10 minutes scrolling through hundreds of titles on demand before landing on Black Sabbath (1964).

I like modern horror but my preference is the older stuff. Not so much the classic black and white Lon Cheney films, but rather 60-80s, Hammer and on up. I enjoy the slow pace, the gothic visuals, the garish colors, the practical special effects and real props. Black Sabbath had it all thanks to the talents of director Mario Bava.

This turned out to be a pretty good little trilogy of films wrapped up in one production, woven together with Boris Karloff as narrator. I love Creepshow and Tales from the Crypt and their ilk, in collections of shorts you’ll often find more creativity, unexpected twists and bad ends often not possible in a feature length film.

Black Sabbath is full of nasty little shocks. All three shorts were good. The first, “The Drop of Water,” is the creepiest and features a corpse with a truly terrifying frozen death-mask face, but the third, a nice little vampire story, was my favorite. I enjoy it when the monsters sometimes win. I too would not have resisted the beautiful female vampire of "The Wurdulak,” which seems to have inspired at least one scene from ‘Salem’s Lot. The film is visually stunning with beautiful and eerie landscapes and gothic set pieces, like this:

After watching the film I did a bit of research and discovered the Americanized version was neutered of some of its bloodier elements, and the middle story, “The Telephone,” badly altered to remove the main character’s backstory as a prostitute in a lesbian relationship. The Italians were a lot less prudish in the early 60s, it seems.

In hindsight these elements make the plot hang together far better so I’ll probably seek out the original at some point.

Recommended.

***

As I was writing this the news hit that Ace Frehley passed away.

I’ve seen Ace in concert many times, including twice this year alone. He was diminished as all 70s rockers are but still putting on good performances and rocking to the end. Ace was the most charismatic member of the band and its most talented musician. He wrote a few of their classic songs (“Cold Gin” and “Parasite," among others), lent the band an early swagger that made KISS so badass in the 70s, and of course, was responsible for many classic solos delivered with an inimitable, unique style. Loose and jangly, big rings banging off the guitar, but always fitted to the song itself.

Ace was a notorious drinker and drug user and nearly died back in the early 1980s in a car wreck while driving under the influence. He was not the best bandmate and later got into pissing matches with Paul and Gene that lasted to the end of his life. But most fans loved him. I count myself in that group. Watch KISS’ classic interview with Tom Snyder, Ace steals the show with his one-liners and trademark cackling laugh. I also recommend his autobiography No Regrets. How he lived this long is a mystery; the stories of him being driven around New York in the back seat of a limousine with John Belushi and spilling out into club after club for one drunken escapade after the next are legend.

My favorite Ace memory is seeing him in 1994 at The Underground in Lowell after pounding a 12-pack of Zima with my buddy Wayne. We were hammered and so was Ace. I later told this story to my very amused friends at work, left for a long weekend, and returned to find my office plastered with cutout pictures of Ace and Zima bottles. 

Ace would have approved.

You may not like KISS but you cannot deny they did their brand of party rock better than anyone. The number of hits they wrote dwarf the output of most rock bands. Dozens of talented guitarists admit that Ace was the guy that got them to pick up their axe in the first place, among them Slash and Dimedag Darrell.

Say a prayer for his soul and his family and loved ones.

Ace Frehley lead guitar! The coolest.

Addendum: For anyone feeling nostalgic for a lost Ace, I HIGHLY recommend this great interview… he talks about The Elder, KISS Meets the Phantom of the Park, his relationship with the band members, getting into music, alcohol use, and none of it is mean spirited. He’s full of laughter in it:

A Fine Line Between Stupid and Clever: The Story of Spinal Tap

Tap crossed that line... which way?

There is a picture of me going to see KISS on their hotly anticipated, sold out 1996 reunion tour. In it I’m standing on my parents’ front lawn with two friends and my brother. All four of us are in KISS makeup.

I’m wearing a Spinal Tap t-shirt.

I love KISS, they’re a fun band who have written some rocking hits. But I also recognize them as ridiculous.

If you've read any of my metal posts here you know I’m a fan. I love the music, I take it seriously. But I also laugh at it. Metal is sometimes awesome, sometimes terrible. Sometimes brilliant, sometimes dumb. Powerful, but sometimes just too damned loud.

Hard rock and metal can be mocked. They should be mocked. Mockery and the ability to absorb it is the sign of a healthy genre, and rock and metal can take it.

Some genres and their fans take themselves too seriously. I see this sometimes in sword-and-sorcery circles; call John Jakes’ Brak or Lin Carter’s Thongor or Gardner Fox’s Kothar what it is—derivative and often dumb, though fun and something I will read and enjoy—and panties get bunched.

But we need good-natured mockery. Parody is a sign of respect that you’ve made it. S&S can take the likes of Mention My Name in Atlantis, and heavy metal can take Spinal Tap. Spinal Tap took the piss out of metal better than anyone before or since in their 1984 mockumentary. And metal bands (most, anyway) love them for it.  We all could use a little more laughter in our lives. Even if the world is ending (it’s not, though one would think so scrolling any social media app) the remedy is laughter.

I just finished reading A Fine Line Between Stupid and Clever: The Story of Spinal Tap, and experienced quite a few chuckles. Laughter is rare to pull off in the written form, I have found. This book made me laugh. But I also learned a lot. I love the film, and when I saw there was a memoir coming out penned by director Rob Reiner I knew I had to have it. Published by Gallery Books, my copy at least came signed by Reiner himself, complete with certificate of authenticity. Cool to have a signature of the man who not only gave us the best metal mockumentary ever, but also The Princess Bride, Stand by Me, and a Few Good Men, among others.

Reiner’s signature is not the only cool and unique feature of the book: It’s also double-sided, like the old Ace Doubles. Flip the book over and “book 2,” Smell the Book, is 60 pages of “interviews” conducted by director Marty DiBergi with band members Nigel Tufnel, David St. Hubbins, and Derek Smalls--an oral history of the band in their voices. Which is pretty funny. You get lines like this:

David: I was at Sacred Sacrament. My mom was a big Catholic.

Marty: Religious?

David: No, five foot ten.

Or old album titles like “Jap Habit” and “Bent for the Rent,” the latter a British expression for what you do for the landlord when he’s bugging you and you can’t pay him, so you do him a favor…

But the meat of the book is the memoir portion. A breezy but well-told history of how the principals came to meet each other, make the film, its reception, and lasting legacy. It offers an illuminating, behind the scenes look, and I learned several things I did not know. For example:

• Spinal Tap barely made it to the screen. The studios to whom Reiner pitched the film did not know what to make of it, just about everyone passed on it.
• It made very little money upon its release and Reiner and co. made almost no money even on licensing until a lawsuit spearheaded by Harry Shearer was able to wrest the rights to the film back and amend missing royalty payments. One city in which it was well-received right out of the gate, I’m proud to say, is Boston, in which it played continuously for a solid year.
• Spinal Tap played real shows before the movie came out to sharpen their playing, including at Gazzarri’s on the Sunset Strip—with opening act Iron Butterfly. No one knew who they were or suspected that they were a parody act (this is circa 1982-83, pre-film, and new metal acts were showing up in the scores.) Spinal Tap was just another unknown metal band.
• Reiner refers to several hilarious-sounding scenes that didn’t make the final cut, as 40+ hours of film was ultimately reduced to a lean 82-minute run time. There were often 3-4 versions of a given scene. Apparently some of these deleted scenes are on a special edition that I need to seek out (my copy is believe it or not VHS). For example, originally the band had an opening act called the Dose, who had a beautiful and easy female lead singer; her dalliances with Tap explain the famous scene where the band has unexplained cold sores on their mouths during a record launch party. But this subplot was left on the cutting room floor.
• The dialogue is almost entirely unscripted and improvised. Reiner, Christoper Guest, Shearer and Michael McKean scripted scenes and had the outlines of the movie plotted, but the actual dialogue was ad-libbed, and many of the verbal jokes utterly spontaneous expressions of the characters they created. Even a young Fran Drescher, then 25, fell into her role and extemporaneously came up with “Money Talks and Bullshit Walks.” That’s talent.

Spinal Tap 2 is just hitting and I’m a little worried. I know someone who got invited to an early screening and he was underwhelmed; he described it as just OK, certainly not terrible but lacking the punch and wit of the original. I will see it for myself, but regardless of whether it holds up as a worthy sequel we’ll always have the OG. The ultimate documentary, if you will, rockumentary, of the world’s loudest band.

Reading is in trouble … what are we going to do about it?

Reading is in trouble. How deeply? There’s evidence it may be in a death spiral.

A new study published in the journal iScience found that daily reading for pleasure plummeted 40% over the past 20 years. The data was taken from a study of more than 236,000 Americans, no small sample size. Study co-author Jill Sonke called it “a sustained, steady decline” and “deeply concerning.”

Another study found if you read or listened to only one book in 2023, you read more than 46% of Americans. 

Another 20 years like this and we might have to turn out the lights. Books will be viewed like Laserdiscs or a Betamax tape, a curious and dead relic.

I’m disappointed … but not surprised. Anecdotally the data checks out; half the people I know or hang out with don’t read. A few that do read a lot. This steep decline may not be apparent if you spend all your time in insular groups. I belong to a couple sword-and-sorcery Discord groups and another S&S watering hole on Reddit where people love talking about reading and their favorite books and showing book porn.

But these places aren’t normal. If you’re reading this you’re probably like me, not “normal” either. I’m what’s known as a whale, I’ve got 1200 books or so in my library and that’s not counting digital titles and comics and the like. But we don’t need whales, a whale might buy a shit-ton but a whale is only going to buy one copy of a work (maybe super deluxe collector’s editions too, but you see my point). 

For reading to grow we need lots of people buying books and enjoying reading for pleasure. It needs to become ubiquitous and normal. People used to do this. They used to buy mass-market paperbacks off wire spinner racks. They read magazines with circulations in the hundreds of thousands or millions that supported the authors who wrote for them. 

Today they’re watching television and watching YouTube and scrolling social media. 

I do these things too but I carve out time for reading. It’s a habit like exercise that must be cultivated. Phone scrolling is unfortunately 10x easier. YT videos have 400x the views of blog posts (this is me griping).

Reading is never going to go away entirely, but it may never again hold a prominent place among pleasure activities. 

What are the consequences of this relatively recent shift?

A loss of knowledge, paradoxically at a time when we’re drowning in information. All the information you seek is readily available by asking ChatGPT … but you’re never going to remember it. Reading generic machine output about the importance of community and bravery and faith is not going to transform you like reading Watership Down.

Information does not equal understanding. We might absorb data but we make sense of it by telling stories.

I learn through sustained attention and absorbing multiple perspectives. Reading and then writing about what I’ve read. Lose that ability and we risk losing our future to others.

We are drowning in information while starving for wisdom. The world henceforth will be run by synthesizers, people able to put together the right information at the right time, think critically about it, and make important choices wisely.

— E. O. Wilson

But beyond utility and understanding the loss of reading also means a loss of a unique form of entertainment. As I’ve noted before books offer a different experience and reward than movies or other visual media. I hate to think of a future where no one walks the labyrinthine halls of Xuchotl with Conan, sword in hand.

What do we do about it?

If you have children, read to them, study authors say. “Reading with children is one of the most promising avenues,” said Daisy Fancourt, Ph.D., a professor of psychology and epidemiology at University College London and co-director of the EpiAtrts Lab. “It supports not only language and literacy, but empathy, social bonding, emotional development and school readiness.”

Get creative with marketing books. Here’s an example of a $1M kickstarter for a book that put its backers in its stories. 

Recommend books. Support authors that continue to write, outlets that promote writing and reading. Promote old books too.

Write. If you can master its craft and discipline you’ve mastered a skill fewer and fewer possess. Good writing requires you to read. No way around that. Hey at least your stuff might get ingested by an AI and live on that way.

And above all don’t give up. We are the hopelessly outnumbered defenders on the walls of Minas Tirith, fighting against the dark and praying for the dawn. Perhaps we will hear the unexpected sound of horns.

TL;DR, Keep reading and sharing what you love. Support other writers. Keep writing. Fight on.

What is this newsletter thing? =====>

Update: The form is working! I've got confirmed subscribers.

No, you’re not seeing things. That widget is there. I’m starting an email newsletter.

Why? 

• Third party platforms are ephemeral. Google might nuke Blogger from orbit… and all my readership would vanish in an instant.

• I need a better way to keep in touch with readers. I get a lot of flyby traffic that comes, reads an article and sometimes more, and then vanishes. I suspect because there’s no easy mechanism for getting back to this static blog. A quick signup form keeps people connected.

• I like what I’ve done here and don’t want to migrate over to something like Substack. Yes, it’s more modern, has better publishing architecture, and it has email distribution. But I’d lose the backlinks, the domain authority, etc.

What might I do with the NL? I don’t have a firm plan yet, nor even a name. I’m sort of building an aircraft in flight, but some ideas include:

• Brief summaries of posts with links to read the rest

• Bonus content you won’t get on the blog

• Updates about my new heavy metal memoir WIP and other projects

• Giveaways

It’s free, if you like what I do here please sign up. No spam; I'm thinking a monthly email. Just expect the unexpected… wizardry, arcana, that sort of thing.

I'm embedding it here in this post as well for better viewing.

Metal, and the Ozzman, on my mind

For many reasons I have metal on my mind these days. I mean, it’s never far—I’m a confirmed metalhead, lifelong—but my enthusiasm waxes and wanes. 

Right now we’re waxing full.

I can’t shake Ozzy’s death. I suspect it might be at least partly due to the algorithms that shape our online existence. It’s everywhere I go, from Youtube to Instagram to Reddit. I’ve been listening to a lot of OG Sabbath and Ozzy solo material.

More on Ozzy in just a moment.

I also have had three people close to me read my heavy metal memoir WIP and am processing their feedback. I’ve submitted proposals to a few specialty publishers and will continue to do so.

I suspect I will self-publish via KDP but who knows… I just know I have to do the thing. I believe in the story. I hit a bit of a lull and the 10th or 20th or 50th crisis of self-confidence but now am coming out on the other side.

Onwards.

***

Back to Ozzy. He’s everywhere right now.

As I write this the live stream of his public funeral in Birmingham is set to begin. 

If you haven’t read this fine remembrance by Geezer Butler, please do so: “Ozzy Osbourne was the Prince of Laughter.” It confirms everything I said above.

Darkness? Hell no, he was a beacon of light.

We are perceived a certain way, but that doesn’t mean we are that way.

We make mistakes, even grave ones. We do dumb shit, harmful shit. But that doesn’t define us. 

We get a second chance, because we get to decide.

You can change your life (you must). You have tendencies and biases and weaknesses and strengths, but you are a (semi) rational being. You’re born with a personality archetype that leads to introversion or extroversion, anxiousness or confidence, reflective or active postures to life.

But these fall along a spectrum. None of these traits are immutable. 

I reject biological determinism and materialism. I believe in free will. I believe there is an immortal soul in every human, bound to our houses of flesh but also something apart, malleable, full of potential (for good or ill). We can deduce the presence of a soul by its absence.

Life is not fixed. And that is a miracle.

Where’s my proof?

Ozzy. 

How unique was this dude? There will never be another like him. No AI, no algorithm, can replicate his contradictions—his wild acts and occasional descents into darkness, juxtaposed with his jubilant, caring spirit.

We all must wear masks and adopt personas. Ozzy wore one for the stage. But you could see the real person underneath.

Go back and read Butler’s remembrance, but in particular this bit:

People always thought Ozzy was a feral wild man, but he had a heart of pure gold. Most of his infamous antics — the bat saga, biting the head off a dove, pissing on the Alamo, snorting lines of ants, and the rest — came in his solo years, away from the restraints of the Sabbath crew. But if you were a friend in need, Ozzy was always there for you. When my son was born with a heart defect, Ozzy called me every day to see how I was coping, even though we hadn’t spoken for a year.

His wife Sharon forgave his transgressions. We can forgive too.

His friends loved him because he was full of humor and hope. He came from nowhere Birmingham and changed the world.

Not a bad legacy for a Prince of Darkness.

Godspeed to a lighthearted Prince of Darkness

Unreal, less than three weeks after “Back to the Beginning,” the end of the road for a once in a generation frontman.

Farewell Ozzy Osbourne.

Ozzy was not a musical genius, save his voice, which was awesome and inimitable. He resides firmly in this old and flawed Top 10 heavy metal vocalists list which I should probably update. 

He was the face of heavy metal, and its soul. If not its brightest talent its center, the sun around which the rest of the metal universe revolved. His charisma was off the charts. The world turned out to see him and Black Sabbath off in Birmingham, which you don’t do for assholes.

I've never known a world without Ozzy Osbourne. Four of Sabbath's legendary first six albums were out before I was born. His loss is immeasurable.

I think some of Ozzy’s solo material is overlooked. Certainly not “Crazy Train,” “Bark at the Moon,” “Mr. Crowley” or “Mama I’m Coming Home,” but how about “Fire in the Sky,” “Mr. Tinkertrain” or “The Ultimate Sin”? 

As I noted in my Black Sabbath post our metal heroes are dying off, and the list is getting longer. Lemmy, Dio, EVH, Paul Di'Anno, and now Ozzy. That’s how it goes, none of us are getting out alive.

It makes me sad of course, but also reflective, and expansive. Paradoxically death opens my heart. See enough of it, and you realize life is too short for grudges and pettiness and trying to “own” each other. How about more celebration of the good, of reading and taking a few notes from the “Diary of a Madman” who wrang every fucking bead of sweat out of this life?

Maybe if we can all stop hating each other for five minutes and realize that we’re walking a finite and short path on a spinning ball of rock in the darkness of an unfathomably massive void we’d all be … a little happier? Or at least more appreciative of the miracle of our own lives. Ozzy had his dark moments and transgressions and addictions, but the outpourings of support confirm a few common traits: He laughed a lot, he cared about his friends, and he was hopeful.

Maybe it’s not too late

To learn how to love, and forget how to hate

S&S publishing news: Plunder-a-plenty

Lots of swords, lots of sorcery going on.

My friend Ken Lizzi, one of the dudes with whom I split a house rental at 2023 Robert E. Howard Days, is having his Cesar the Bravo fiction collected and kickstarted by Cirsova. Cesar, a sometimes-condottiero and a bravo by trade, has earned a reputation as one of the best swords for hire in the city of Plenum. If you need a foe humiliated before a cheering crowd, he’s your man! 

This collection includes 5 previously published adventures plus an all-new full-length novel! Ken is a good dude and a good writer. Get in on that today.

I'm giving Old Moon Quarterly a shot. I bought one of their issues recently and now am kickstarting issues #9-10. One of these is Arthurian themed which ticks a lot of my boxes. I'm liking the aesthetic of this publication. As I write this entry I can see they've met their funding minimum and now we'll see what else they might unlock. Maybe Excalibur from the stone?

Digging the Celtitude.

Speaking of great aesthetics, DMR Books has published Celtic Adventures, with one of the best covers I've seen. This reminds me I still need to pick up Swords of Steel vol. 4. Some awesome reprints in this one, including the likes of REH and Arthur Gilchrist Brodeur, whose "Vengeance" in DMR Books' Viking Adventures I could not put down.

I'm also kickstarting David C. Smith's Sometime Lofty Towers. You should too, as its one of the best modern sword-and-sorcery stories I've read. You can read my prior review of this fine title here. This one is just about to fund, you can be the one to put it over the top!

In summary, no shortage of excellent stuff going on these days in S&S. I love the old stuff too but try to support new authors and projects. 

Note: This roundup is far from comprehensive, just a few things that have crossed my transom recently.

More generative AI harm

The result I was anticipating has occurred. A Federal California Judge today ruled in favor of AI giant Anthropic, stating that the company’s training of its large language models on the works of authors without permission constitutes fair use. He did rule that its use of pirated material is theft, but this latter win is quite minor in comparison to the win handed to tech giants.

From 404 Media, “The complex decision is one of the first of its kind in a series of high-profile copyright lawsuits brought by authors and artists against AI companies, and it’s largely a very bad decision for authors, artists, writers, and web developers.”  

It's the precedent for which all the major AI firms were waiting. They can now ingest all your work freely and then sell it back to you for a monthly licensing fee.

 The rich get richer and the rest get ever smaller scraps.

All while gleefully continuing to destroy your jobs and your family’s future. Because, China?

Just a few weeks ago Anthropic’s CEO predicted that their product and its AI ilk will lead to the elimination of 50% of all entry level jobs, and 10-20% unemployment more broadly. 

This is not me playing Boy Who Cried Wolf. The wolf is at your door, and its hungry.

Job losses are already happening. In my work outside of the blogosphere I serve a slice of healthcare. Providence Health Care recently laid off 600 employees amid restructuring and is now heavily investing in AI.

That’s 600 jobs replaced by machines. This trend will grow exponentially.

EVEN IF the end result is something like universal basic income it will be a net loss for humanity. We’re meant to do hard things, not play with ourselves on our fucking computers and lap up the output of machines that have strip-mined humanity’s riches and spoon feed it back to you as slop.

A few other wonderful AI news briefs worth mentioning.

• Unqualified job candidates are flooding inboxes with AI generated resumes tailored to match job descriptions. Companies are using AI to weed out candidates, and in some cases interview candidates with voice AI. AI agents are talking to AI agents. No humans apparently needed. 
• Communication skills are being incredibly degraded. No one can write without a machine, and those that do use machines are getting dumber. Students using ChatGPT to write their papers show vastly lowered brain activity and little to no recall. This is not me blowing gas, it’s an MIT study.

Sometimes progress isn’t. 

I suppose I could just stick my head in the sand and go back to blogging about old books and pulp authors and heavy metal. I’m sure a few of my half-dozen readers would prefer this. No fear, I will blog about these subjects. 

But none of this exists without people. I love looking at works made by people, for other people, not the output of machines. I can’t and won’t stop writing about this issue. 

I continue to maintain that for creative work and deep learning, and possibly our future as a species, gen AI is a cancer.

Some further thoughts on generative AI art

We’re getting increasingly embedded into machinery. The future is almost certainly cyborg, flesh and circuitry melded together. It is already happening but will occur on a rapid scale.

What about art? Why shouldn’t art be the same? 

We’ve already seen this trend. Even before generative AI, many/most artists were using advanced digital tools like Adobe Photoshop and Illustrator. Writers were using grammar and spelling checker tools embedded into word processing software.

You can make the case that with gen AI nothing has really changed. Others are already making the case by just doing the thing; putting out art that is obviously AI generated.

I saw a recent post in a sword-and-sorcery Facebook group by an author promoting a new book with the most generic AI cover I’ve ever seen. I’m not going to link to it, but it’s obvious, and terrible. A search of said author’s website reveals everything about it including text is all AI.

Points for brazenness? 

What’s so wrong about generative AI, anyway?

My personal belief is that using AI in heavy quantities no longer makes the art yours, nor you an artist. At some point the credit must go to the machine. And the machines are not a neutral piece of technology. Nor are the companies programming the AIs and their leadership, who make very suspect ethical decisions.

Beyond these very real concerns is an even bigger underlying question: What is the purpose of AI generated art itself?

The question I have for heavy AI users is, do you see the same problem as I? Why do I need to bother reading (or certainly paying) for your art when I can just log into ChatGPT and have it create images and text that I prompt? 

Maybe that is the future of art—we just create our own, staring into our screens and having it create exactly what we want, when we want it. 

I don’t love the thought of this future.

When I view art, part of the experience—for me, it might differ for you—is engaging with the artist, too. What motivated them to create this piece, this way, with this mood, this viewpoint? How did Tolkien’s WWI experience influence The Lord of The Rings, how did the Texas landscape influence REH? 

I like engaging with unique visions from the minds of individuals. The Mad Max films look and feel a certain way, say certain things, because of George Miller.

It makes art unpredictable. Sometimes I don’t like the output, but that’s part of the experience. 

All of this is lost in the slop of a machine, which is a giant aggregator. We’re no longer engaging with a unique individual, or a discrete group of individuals (cast, director, and crew). We’re engaging with machine modeled output and algorithms. 

For all its limitations and mistakes generative AI is a massive leap forward from the tools described above. 

So what of its output?

I don’t like it. If it has a unique character, its soullessness. I will never, ever buy a book using obvious generative AI. If I’m being fully honest, I think less of people that publish it. It is giving me serious pause about buying anything written after 2021, which makes me sad.

It also makes me angry, because it’s an unearned and lazy shortcut.

If you can’t write well, you must learn to do so. If you can’t draw, learn the skill. Or, pay a fellow professional. If you can’t pay them, offer up some service in exchange they can’t perform. Bartering is profoundly human, accepting the output of a machine, Faustian. You’re undercutting the whole enterprise of art when you do this. Because again, art produced so cheap and easily is not worth consuming.

But being kind, and on the backend of a long career in publishing, I also say, YMMV. I might be wrong about this. Perhaps gen AI is bringing a new type of art into being, man-machine art. Perhaps it gives people without the means to publish the ability to do so. Perhaps we all might be using generative AI every day with the same ubiquity as email. 

I have used and continue to use AI for certain tasks in my own work. I know its power, I know its limitations. And I continue to wrestle with the morality of it all. To quote Danny Glover I’m perhaps too old for this shit. To understand it, to embrace it, to appreciate it.

But I don’t think I am wrong. I believe there is something deeply wrong here.

Three things

Walk with me...

Thing 1

I just finished re-reading The Long Walk after a long walk of my own, years and years of life since my last reading decades ago. Some thoughts.

We get no details on why the Walk came to be, just a couple scant suggestions. Like this: “In the old days, before the Change and the Squads, when there were still millionaires, they used to set up foundations and build libraries and all that good shit.” There is a reference to a war fought against a nuclear-armed Germany in 1953. So it’s not set in an apocalyptic future but some alternate history, perhaps one in which Germany develops an atomic weapon before 1945 and greatly extended the second world war. The result is a terrible totalitarian 20th century where the country is so lost and the future so bereft of hope that it turns to horrible death-fueled game shows to forget.

We don’t know, and I like it this way. Given the many chapter epigraph references to the Price is Right, prize fighting, and the Ten-Thousand Dollar Pyramid, I’m sure King was inspired by the game show craze sweeping the nation in the 1970s.

Things haven’t changed all that much. We all seem to be walking around in a fog, distracted just enough by digital spectacle to ignore the real horrors going on around us, as well as our own impending deaths. Just scroll an Instagram feed.

The Long Walk is an extended metaphor on dying. We’re all on the same Walk, two minutes from a ticket out (Walkers who slow their pace get three warnings before they are shot dead). That brief space tracks somewhat closely to what happens when you stop breathing. We’re separated from the other side by a thin margin. So we walk, and everyone around us drops off, one by one, until its our turn.

I know the literal, physical territory of this Walk, I was just on it, yesterday, when my wife and I had a nice dinner in Portsmouth, NH. The Walk starts in Maine, crosses into New Hampshire, and a skeletal handful make it all the way to my home state of Massachusetts. Weird, wild. Between King and H.P. Lovecraft New England takes a back seat to no other region of the United States when it comes to horror.

I really do enjoy King, in particular his old stuff. Say what you want about his long-windedness, his occasional closure whiffs and bad endings, and his lack of philosophical depth (King himself describes his work as the literary equivalent of a cheeseburger). I’d be hard-pressed to think of another writer who can so sweep you up into a story and hold you spellbound until the end. That’s true talent.

Thing 2

I’ve seen a few places—messageboards, articles, reddit threads—refer to the sword-and-sorcery definition I offered in Flame and Crimson as “seven points,” which makes it seem like a cumbersome checklist that must be met.

This is not correct, because it’s not what I wrote. 

What I wrote was, sword-and-sorcery often contains these handful of elements; it does not need all of them nor any precise proportion. But shorn of any it’s hard to picture anyone calling said story S&S.

I kind of like this, it seems to me flexible and elegant, forgiving but not without boundaries. A precise definition of S&S is not really possible, IMO. When you look at how the subgenre evolved it coalesced over three decades and in conversations with authors and a fan community. It has changed and will continue to evolve. So instead of a precise definition I offered up a constellation of tropes. With the caveat that I am just a guy and YMMV.

See some of my other musings here.

But for some reason this seems to be a continued source of confusion and occasionally complaint. Some feel the need to simplify the definition, boil and boil down like maple syrup in some type of purity contest, until the definition of S&S might fit on the head of a pin.

If you must insist…I can’t boil it down to one word but I’ll give you two: Pulp Fantasy.

I am this target audience.

Thing 3

I mentioned Instagram further up; yesterday that platform triangulated me with precision, locked in with unerring heat detecting radar, launched its missile, and hit me with a dead-on bullseye.

The missile: A Fine Line Between Stupid and Clever: The Story of Spinal Tap. Signed by director Rob Reiner.

How did I not know this existed? The ad hit my feed. I preordered.

The takeaway: Algorithms work, and I too can be reeled in like a fish on a line. 

Here's something cool: Tom Barber painting donated to Andover (NH) public library

On April 26, my friend Tom Barber--an Andover NH resident and a well-known painter and illustrator since the 1970s, presented his painting of "The Bibliophile" to Michaela Hoover, director of the Andover Libraries. The painting, which shows an imaginary book lover immersed in his favorite pastime, was donated to the libraries by an anonymous collector of Tom's works. It will hang in the Andover Public Library as an inspiration for book lovers of all ages. 

For more information, visit https://www.andovernhlibraries.org/ or contact Tom at tombarberartist@gmail.com

Also, Tom is still doing great work and would love to hear from you about commissions or other art projects.

Facebook ripped me off

I punched my name into this handy plagiarism detection tool published by The Atlantic, and like millions of other authors discovered Mark Zuckerberg ripped me off. The nerve of this douche!

There I am! Above the whiskey. Of which I now need a few shots.

In case you missed the recent news, “Meta and its founder and CEO Mark Zuckerberg deliberately and explicitly authorized a raid on LibGen—and Anna's Archive, another massive digital pirate haven—to train its latest AI model.” Millions of books have been ingested into Llama 3 without author compensation, or even notification.

What makes it even worse is that the fine folks at Facebook (I almost wrote that without a sneer) could have put some thought into the decision. Taken a few extra weeks to do the right thing. But instead chose to behave like Somali pirates operating on the open ocean.

What the fuck, Zuck.

There is of course complexity to this. How does fair use apply to the output of generative AI? Is feeding a machine training data the equivalent of a person reading? Will slowing AI development with more rigorous author protections and safety guardrails put us behind foreign competitors like China?

But that’s a battle for someone else to fight. Me? I’m tired of the techo-obfuscation and the excuse-making. This is pretty close to outright theft. Facebook could have done this the legal and proper way but its leadership team chose to operate like immoral assholes. Which should surprise no one.

I've written before that I'm not a fan of generative AI, even though I believe it has incredible potential and is here to stay. It’s just beyond galling that big companies like Meta and OpenAI scrape data from wherever and whomever they want and then sell it back to you in the form of subscription products. And then rigorously defend their own gated fiefdoms with impenetrable legalese and teams of lawyers.

The moral of the story: Laws don’t apply to big companies like they do individuals.

Honestly I am not THAT pissed. Just looking on, feeling bemused, disappointed and disempowered, sort of like the victim of a drive-by egging. Perhaps Llama 3 will now create some kick ass S&S haikus using the genre elements I outline in Flame and Crimson. Maybe there will be a class action suit and I will be entitled to a $3.87 payout after the lawyers take their share. We’ll see.

Rest in peace James Silke

James Silke, best known in S&S circles as the author of the Death Dealer series, recently passed away. He was 93 and lived a full and varied life as a photographer, writer, art director and more.

I'd been slowly working my way through the Death Dealer series and am posting here links to my prior reviews. These unfortunately are not great books, certainly not as good as their fantastic Frank Frazetta cover art ... but they do possess a ridiculous charm of their own, a bit of a "WTF did I just read?" unpredictability that makes them ... notable.

Sword-and-sorcery’s endgame: James Silke’s Prisoner of the Horned Helmet

“This goes to 11:” A Review of Death Dealer Book 2: Lords of Destruction

Death Dealer 3: Semi-enjoyable (?) train-wreck

I'm sure I will get around to book IV.

God speed James Silke!

Paper books are better than digital: Five reasons why

In many ways life is better today than it ever has been. In other ways, not so much. Parse this statement in whatever way you choose.

One area in which I think we’ve declined is our addiction to devices. We check our phones in Pavlovian, notification driven mindlessness. When we’re not incessantly reaching for our Androids or iphones we’re staring at other screens—televisions, laptops, and digital readers.

This last is arguably the least concerning … until the most recent news. I never switched to the Kindle and today I’m feeling vindicated.

I’m not here to brag, just stating the undisputed fact not all change represents progress. Sometimes we regress and must course correct. Or, we realize that tried and true is so for a reason.

Even without Amazon’s incredibly selfish decision to prohibit downloading books you’ve already bought starting Feb. 26, analog books were already a superior option. 

I get it, Kindle fans. You’ve got bookmarking and search at your disposal. You can “buy” a book and immediately begin reading while I wait for the mail. When you take an extended vacation you’ve only got a single slim device to manage rather than cargo for the overhead bins. 

Good for you. I’m still team paper.

I’m also a digital consumer and user. I’m online, all the time. I have a paid subscription to Spotify. I watch a lot of YouTube content. It’s incredibly convenient to search .PDFs and other e-text for keywords, which I did while writing Flame and Crimson.

But I’m still team paper. Here’s five reasons why:

1. We have enough digital distractions. We don’t need devices to read books when we already have a better technology that allows for an undistracted experience. Studies have proven that reading on screens leads to more shallow processing and can hinder reading comprehension. 

2. Digital media enables piracy. Musicians can no longer depend on album sales for revenue. Being a full-time author today is almost impossible unless you happen to be Stephen King. Midlist paperback author careers that were once a real thing have been undone for many reasons, but among them is digital piracy. Ask a musician how much they make from Spotify.

3. Paper is a more durable medium. It isn’t going anywhere, once purchased no one can take it back. Unlike what we’ve seen this week due to corporate greed, and in other instances with bowdlerization (see point 5). I have a couple books on my shelves more than a hundred years old… your e-reader will be outdated in less than a decade and you’ll forced to upgrade.

4. You don’t actually own anything with digital based subscriptions. I’ve had songs disappear off Spotify. Kindle owners have had titles removed. George Orwell's 1984 and Animal Farm were taken back by Amazon when a rights issue arose (the irony of these particular titles should not be lost on anyone). I’ve got Orwell, in paper, and there they stay on my shelf. 

5. Censorship and/or lesser forms of content neutering are real. Given our grandstanding need to prove our moral superiority over previous generations by removing “problematic” elements like fictitious evil monsters from D&D I have no faith that a future publisher will not do the same to new editions of my old favorites. Denude them, round off every sharp corner and push them toward some bland middle of sameness, in an attempt to avoid offense. Which is fruitless, given that someone, somewhere is offended all the time. And probably will be offended by this post. Lest you think I’m just picking on the left, take a look at Florida.

In summary I’ll keep my paper books. Unlike digital slop they have edges that can cut.

Rest in peace, Howard Andrew Jones

The news is out, and it is terrible though not unexpected. Howard Andrew Jones, author of The Desert of Souls, the Hanuvar chronicles, and former editor of Tales from the Magician’s Skull, passed away yesterday following a short battle with brain cancer.

Make no mistake, this is a first order tragedy. Howard was not old—56 is the middle of a writer’s career, an age where most are still working and at the height of their powers. He was in the midst of a popular series of books published by Baen, the Hanuvar chronicles, one that will probably be remembered as his best work. 

More than his professional life, Howard had a vibrant, loving family around him that are suffering an unimaginable loss. And it’s all over.

Howard’s death is a catastrophe. Depressing, and a grim reminder of our own frailty and mortality.

Sad and terrible. 

Others knew Howard far, far better than I did, and you can find those tributes elsewhere. Joseph Goodman at Goodman Games, a close friend and collaborator on Tales from the Magician’s Skull, wrote a nice piece. I also found a fantastic and moving tribute on Facebook by author Greg Mele.

Read those pieces, they are from people who knew Howard at a personal level I never did.

I enjoyed Howard’s fiction. My favorite was probably The Desert of Souls. But I think one of his greatest accomplishments were his wealth of posts and essays on S&S, Robert E. Howard, and of course, Harold Lamb. I credit Howard fully for introducing me to Lamb. I’ve got a couple of his Bison Books edited volumes on my bookshelves. A great recommendation, thank you Howard.

As noted previously I served on at least one virtual panel with HAJ, and a podcast. We messaged each other publicly on forums and occasionally privately. He had some nice things to say about Flame and Crimson. I can confirm he was a wonderful human being, friendly and encouraging, non-confrontational and supportive, broad-minded and beneficent. Traits which are increasingly rare these days.

I’ll miss him, and the S&S community will miss him. 

I hope one of the enterprising S&S publishers starts an annual award in Howard’s name. Or keeps his wonderful Skull mascot alive, or The Day of Might going, in his honor. 

There was something of Hanuvar in him, and so his spirit will live on, eternally, in his works.

The Silver Key: 2024 in review

Life is pretty good these days, both personally and creatively. Even though I slowed down a bit on the blog, I’m making an impact.

Life is imperfect and hard and 2024 was no exception. My body continues to age, and hip and knee pain have made a dent in the formerly carefree way I could train with heavy weights. Yet it’s manageable and I keep pushing.

My wife and I are dealing with aging and increasingly infirm parents. My dad is 81, immobile and prone to falls, and I spend a lot of time helping him with day-to-day life. My father-in-law, 85, has early-stage dementia and now requires 24-7 in-home assistance. We’ve got some good external help, but you can imagine what that means for us, and in particular my wife. She spends a lot of time caretaking. We both do. 

But, despite these challenges I can say unequivocally that life is good. 

Why?

We’re grateful to be in a position to take care of our parents when they need us.

I’m blessed beyond measure with two wonderful daughters and a healthy marriage and a good job.

At age 51 I’m at ease with myself at a depth and surety I’ve never previously experienced. I am no longer plagued by unrelenting self-doubt. I know my value, I know where I stand on most issues, and I know what I value. I know enough to say when I don’t know (which is often), and I know when to keep my mouth shut.

This is what true wealth looks like.

My posting here on the blog has declined, but for good reason. My forthcoming heavy metal memoir is taking serious shape, and I know it will see publication this year. Either with some third-party publisher, or more likely self-published. I still sometimes wonder why I’m bothering with a relatively banal story of a no-name heavy metal fan, but I keep pushing, because I believe it’s an important story others might enjoy and learn from. It’s my life, shared in the context of a style of music that has meant so much to me.

But, between writing the memoir, aging parents, work and careers, maintaining friendships on and on, something has to give, and in 2024 it was my posting on The Silver Key. As it publishes this will be my 59th and possibly final post of 2024. 

Last year I had 65 posts, and the year prior 101.And yet somehow my blog traffic has … gone up?

Per Google Analytics, I had 29,352 total post views in 2023, and this year through Dec. 28 I have had 45,230 views. That’s a 54% increase YOY.

How did that occur? I don’t know. Perhaps someone with knowledge of search traffic trends and Google’s air-tight algorithm can offer some insights. I’m at a loss.

It had nothing close to a viral post, but if you look at my top 10 posts by views of 2023, the numbers are significantly higher across the board this year than last. Even though I don’t monetize this blog in any way it’s nice to know people are reading.

On to the show.

Most popular posts of 2024

Normally I do a clean top 10 type post in this spot, but in 2024 I had 17 posts with more than 400 views each. Last year I only had 3 posts exceed the 400 mark. So I’m listing all of these, lowest to highest.

Going Viking at DMR Books, 404 views. A review of the Saga of Swain the Viking, vol. 1.

Of internet induced “Panic Attack” and Judas Priest’s Invincible Shield, 413 views. My review of Judas Priest’s latest, awesome studio effort.

A review of Metallica, August 2nd 2024, Gillette Stadium, 450 views. I knocked out I believe four concert reviews this year, all of which pick up regular seach traffic and occasional traffic from Reddit.

Death Dealer 3: Semi-enjoyable (?) train-wreck, 467 views. So bad its good, I am “enjoying” the Death Dealer series and am reminded I need to review vol. 4.

Ruminations on subversive and restorative impulses, and conservative and liberal modes of fantasy fiction, 482 views. I liked this essay and am glad others did too, which I believe successfully navigated a fraught political line. 

A review of Iron Maiden, Nov. 9 2024, Prudential Center, Newark New Jersey, 483 views. Glad I got see Maiden perform a heavy dose of my favorite Maiden album Somewhere in Time, and one of the final performances of drummer Nicko McBrain.

Prayers for Howard Andrew Jones, ardent sword-and-sorcery champion, 490 views. A terrible tragedy and I continue to wish the best for Howard and his family.

Our modern problems with reading, 499 views. The first of a couple rant-y type posts, people do like these (and I find them easy to write, they come out in a rush) but I’m often left with a feeling of guilt, like I’m adding yet more negativity to an ocean of internet awfulness. But I try to keep rationality at the foundation.

Not all books need be movies, 500 views. See above, I still get irked by everyone wanting a movie made out of every book or literary character. Books can just do some things better.

50 years of Dungeons and Dragons, 559 views. A big round anniversary for a game that’s meant a lot to me.

A review of Judas Priest, April 19 Newark NJ, 586 views. It’s amazing these guys are still doing it.

Some observations while reading Bulfinch’s Mythology, 605 views. Possibly the biggest surprise, a semi-review/scattered observations on an old book of mythology made my top 6 posts of 2024.

The Shadow of Vengeance by Scott Oden, a review, 634 views. A review of a book in the Heroic Signatures line by a writer with an ear for Howard’s prose style.

More (mediocre) content is not better than no content: A rant, 689 views. A true rant, I stand behind my message but need to reiterate I believe everyone should create if the urge arises. I wish I had targeted it more at the major studios and the “franchise-zation” of everything good that ultimately tarnishes art.

And now the top 3:

50 years of Savage Sword of Conan, and beyond, 776 views. SSOC was my gateway to Conan and S&S and I couldn’t let its silver anniversary slip by. One of these days I might get around to completing my collection.

Organizing my bookshelves: How I do it (YMMV—no hate), 878 views. Not sure what happened here—this post was picked up by a blog with bigger traffic and that drove many views, but I think it’s a topic that all of us book collectors can appreciate. 

The Savage Sword of Conan no. 1, Titan Comics: A review, 1388 views. SSOC is an important title, both historically and today, and overall I’m pretty happy with what I’ve seen from Titan. Though as my review points I had some issues with no. 1 (in particular the printing). But this one brought in the most eyeballs of 2024, both out of the gate and continues to do so. I’m reminded I need to pick up issues 5-6.

To sum up: People like shit posting/rants, they like reviews about Conan, they enjoy advice on how to shelve books (?), and they like heavy metal. All these things bring me great joy and I’m glad they seem to bring joy to you, too. I do very much welcome comments on the blog, and thank all my regulars, but the numbers have a power all their own, and demonstrate that which resonates with a broader audience. I’m not a numbers chaser at all and I write what I enjoy, but nevertheless I find the numbers interesting.

As always I welcome comments here about what you like, don’t like, or what you want to see more of in 2025 and beyond. 

Rest in peace, Paul Di'Anno

He's running free...

Punk music bloomed in the mid 1970s and by the end of the decade had permeated the popular culture. Just as Iron Maiden was forming and ready to burst onto the scene as the premier act in the New Wave of British Heavy Metal.

Maiden’s first two albums are a compelling fusion of punk and heavy metal, blending everything that made that moment in time unique.  And that made Paul Di’Anno just what Maiden needed as a lead vocalist.

Di’Anno had an unpolished, angry, raspy style, perfect for songs like “Prowler,” “Running Free,” “Wrathchild,” and “Killers.” He brought a menace to the stage and looked like he might kick your ass after completing the set. 

But that’s probably underselling Di’Anno, who also could straight out sing in an emotive, soulful way, as evidenced with songs like “Remember Tomorrow” and “Strange World.”

I am someone who firmly believes Bruce Dickinson greatly elevated Iron Maiden. Founder and bassist Steve Harris wanted someone with greater vocal range, stage presence and professionalism, and found him in Dickinson. Maiden would not have achieved the heights it reached had Bruce not joined the band.

But that does not diminish Di’Anno’s contributions in the slightest. They are immeasurable. And those first two albums are still damned good. Today they sound as fresh and unique as ever, and still make it into my rotation. 

RIP Paul, and thanks for the music. 

Prayers for Howard Andrew Jones, ardent sword-and-sorcery champion

When I heard the news that Howard Andrew Jones was diagnosed with inoperable and fatal brain cancer, it staggered me. I’m still reeling. 

The great HAJ, author of Lord of a Shattered Land

Although we’d never met in person, Howard is much more than just an author whose works I admire. He’s a person I admire.

Relentlessly optimistic.

Passionate and informed.

Encouraging and welcoming.

And after all that, he’s also a darned good writer responsible for some books I enjoyed, and recommend you seek out.

I got to know Howard a bit through an online Discord community, Whetstone, which has recently shuttered. We also served together on a Rogues in the House podcast and a video panel, The Best of Sword-and-Sorcery.

But despite meeting him in online venues only, I feel like I knew him. 

I’ve heard it said that if an author writes in enough volume, and truly, that he will inevitably end up on the page. I’m not sure if I fully believe this, but I do believe it in the case of Howard. 

He was Hanuvar. Relentless in his work, honorable, hopeful that one day he might succeed in his mission.

He was also The Skull, mascot of Tales from the Magician’s Skull, the sword-and-sorcery magazine he edited for Goodman Games. Relentless in his love of sword-and-sorcery, and threatening immolation for anyone who profaned the sacred genre. He reduced many interns to ash, all in good humor of course.

He was a tireless champion of Harold Lamb, whose stories he assembled in an eight-volume “Harold Lamb Library” series for Bison Books. Howard constantly shoehorned Lamb into every conversation about early pulp adventure writers, which was endearing but also opened many eyes (including my own) to Lamb’s underappreciated influence and greatness. Instead of “GOAT-ing” Harold as all-time Lamb champion, we’ll bison him, I guess.

I’m hoping against hope that somehow we might get more stories from his pen. I hate talking about him in past tense, because he's still very much alive. But the news does not sound good.

Cancer steals people in their prime, with no warning. Cancer stole someone near to me, now it threatens Howard’s life. It is an absolute scourge and I hope one day I might live to see it eradicated, or driven back to the pits of hell from whence it came, like Conan did to Thog in Xuthal of the Dust.

Life can be absolute shit. 

This heavy news is yet another reminder to live every moment like it matters. Because they all do, and we never know when it may all be taken away.

Prayers for Howard and his family.