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Posts Tagged ‘imaginative fiction’

I’ve begun to notice lately that I’m seeing a lot more gentlemen who have either never seen an escort before, or did so such a long time ago that they no longer have references; a lot of them are very, very nervous due to all the pogroms and client persecution, and some are even confused by the propaganda.  So though they’d like to see a lady, they’re worried about being tricked by evil thugs and having their lives destroyed, and some are concerned that the propaganda might even be true (if exaggerated).  And so they go on the internet looking for answers, and find yours truly; they often read my writings and take comfort in the straight talk I dispense, and even if they don’t do that they can recognize that I am a well-established lady who’s been doing this for half a lifetime, and I’m certainly not any kind of scam artist or bait in a police trap.  And so they contact me; sometimes they’re so nervous they want to pay my social rate to meet for an hour in public first, and that’s just fine.  In fact, such a meetup can serve as a screening for a gent without references; another way I screen first-timers is to simply collect payment in advance so there’s no exchange at the time of our meeting.  And after they see me, my referral can open other doors for them.  I’m really glad for this rather unexpected side-effect of my relative fame; if I can help gentlemen in need, that’s a really wonderful feeling for me.  It’s also a testament to the power of social media; guys who read my blog long enough or follow me on Twitter feel as though they know me, and a lot of the nervousness associated with meeting a sex worker for the first time is bypassed.

Speaking of social media, it seems as though half of everybody now knows that Lorelei Rivers and I have a standing Doctor Who date every Sunday night, so we’ve decided to regularly tweet cheesecake pictures taken at the time.  We’ve even started getting gifts specifically geared to the event; one gentleman paid for our dinner this past Sunday, and an extremely generous gentleman even got Lorelei a new TV set specifically to improve our viewing experience!  So thanks very much to those gents for those gifts, and it goes without saying that we welcome more such!  But one thing we won’t welcome is people trying to make appointments with us during our special time, so please don’t ask; we will, however, welcome duo requests for most other times during the week.  Seriously, guys, the team of Rivers & McNeill is one that will rock you like you’ve never been rocked before; you should deeply consider booking us together.  It’s an experience so out of this world it almost qualifies to be a fantasy adventure show of its own! 

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But who will fix the roads?  –  statists

I’ve been watching my collection of Pink Panther cartoons lately, usually one right before bedtime, and I saw this one last week when I was quite high (which, naturally, made it even more amusing).  The links above it were provided by Jesse Walker, Scott Greenfield, Jesse Walker again, TejasInspirelandFranklin Harris, and Radley Balko, in that order.

From the Archives

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If you have medical questions don’t get second-hand information…from a ghost.  –  Dr. Jen Guntner

Yes, I’m actually subjecting you to an old episode of Family Feud, not only because it has the cast of the old Batman TV show on it, but because one of them is Vincent Price (who honestly doesn’t have a big enough part to make me happy).  If this annoys you, blame Franklin Harris.  And you can blame the links above it on Jesse Walker (“Dracula”), Eddie J Cunningham (“never”), Scott Greenfield (“state”),  Korhomme (“ghost”), and Clarissa (“safe”).

From the Archives

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You must be a lost angel
Dressed in your silk lace
Born somewhere between heaven
And hell, I don’t know what place.
  –  Don Felder, “All of You”

“So, how close are you to the end?”  Abe was so startled he almost fell out of his chair; he had been so intent on his work he hadn’t heard Doris come in.  “Oh, shit, Abe, I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean to scare you!”

“It’s all right,” he lied, badly.  “Close to the end of what?”

“It was meant to be a joke; you’ve been staring at that computer screen for so long, I was implying you must be binge-watching a show or playing a video game.  Sorry about that.”  Doris now regretted the inappropriate attempt at levity; Dr. Steiner was a hell of an astronomer and had the most amazing visual memory she’d ever encountered, but he wasn’t much of a “people person” and had very little ability to hide his emotions.  And that included his intense annoyance right now, and something else she couldn’t quite identify. hubble-deep-sky-image

“Since when are you in charge of monitoring productivity?”

“Hey, calm down Abe, I really was just joking.  It hardly matters what you do while that deep-sky program is running; Dr. Wilbur usually just sleeps.”

“Sorry,” he said sharply, then more gently: “I am, honestly.  I’m just trying to solve a problem and I don’t really like what I’m finding.”

“Would another pair of eyes help?”

Steiner looked up at the PhD student; since she arrived at the Urania Project six months ago, she had proven herself both friendly and trustworthy.  And maybe a fresh perspective could make sense out of what he’d discovered; his own conjectures occupied the zone between “disturbing” and “impossible”.  He decided to risk it.  “Can I trust your discretion?”

Doris suppressed the urge to answer with a joke.  “Of course.”

“You have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“You have my word.”

He turned the monitor slightly so she could see it dead-on; it contained a badly-composed picture of this room with Dr. Wilbur and a woman she didn’t recognize.  No, wait…”Isn’t that the representative from the Foundation who was here last week?”

“Yes.”

“Why is this picture so crooked?”

“Because I didn’t want her to see me taking it, so I had to hide the phone and limit myself to a few shots.  This was the best one.”

Doris thought it prudent to let the Director explain things at his own pace; it was clear this picture was somehow very upsetting to him.  So she just remained quiet while he fiddled with the keyboard and mouse, bringing up another image which looked like the same scene from a different angle.  “Do you see what I did here?”

“It looks like you ran it through our image rotation software.”

“Right.  Then I cropped it down and sent it to a friend of mine who works with reconstructing faces from skulls, and he sent me back this.”  The next image was the same woman, but full-face; it was clearly a constructed image rather than a purely photographic one, but a very good one.  “Does that fit your memory of what she looked like?”

Abe didn’t need to ask that; he could sketch objects from memory after seeing them once.  But he clearly wanted her reassurance, so: “Yes.”

A few more clicks, and he removed her glasses, changed the image to black and white and then moved it to the left side of the screen, bringing up another photo on the right; it was an antique photo of a woman dressed in the fashion of over a century ago, and had clearly been run through a program to clean it up and artificially sharpen the resolution.  The two women were both stunningly beautiful and looked virtually identical.  “Well?” he asked, impatiently.

“The resemblance is certainly striking, but both of these images have been considerably enhanced.  We can’t be sure the original subjects bore more than a passing resemblance to one another.”

“Absolutely true.  But I can tell you that this one” – he pointed to the modern woman on the left – “is an exact resemblance of Gabrielle Ealing, whom I spent considerable time with on her visit here last week.  I never forget a face, especially one like hers.  And every biometric measurement I can apply to the older photo matches up with Ealing’s.”

“Who is the woman in the other photo?”

“Don’t you recognize her?”

“I’m afraid not.”

He looked irritated for a second, then softened.  “I forget others don’t have my memory.  Wait here for a minute.”  After he left the room, Doris continued to stare at the two images; they certainly looked a lot alike.  Allowing for the differences in grooming, they even appeared to be about the same age.  A few minutes later Abe returned with a large framed photo which Doris recognized as one of those hanging in the lobby; it had been taken at the dedication of the original observatory out in New Mexico, in 1910.  Abe tapped on one of the figures in the image:  “There.”

It was clearly the photo from which the image on the right had been scanned.  “Who is she?”

“Angela Ealing, wife of Charles Ealing, who made an obscene fortune in mining and banking and was apparently uninterested in women until he met her sometime after he turned 50.  She was the one who convinced him to establish the Foundation, and after he died in 1919 she ran it until her own death in 1980.”

Doris squinted at the picture.  “She looks young enough to be his granddaughter.”

Abe chuckled.  “Now, now, my dear, that was considered far more acceptable in those days.  According to her official biography, she was born in 1888, which makes her 22 in that photo.  He was about 60 then.”

“Still young enough to father heirs, apparently.”

“One, a posthumous son named Michael, a hellion who lived just long enough to beget a son of his own before getting himself killed in some foolishness on V-J Day.  The mother was apparently uninterested in that role, so the boy was raised by Angela.  Gabrielle is supposed to be his granddaughter, thus Angela’s great-great-granddaughter.”

“That’s quite a resemblance for sharing only one-sixteenth of a genome.”

“Indeed.”

“So what, exactly, are you suggesting?”

He sighed deeply.  “I’m a scientist, not a science-fiction writer.”

“Abe, this is just silly.  You’re an extremely rational man; surely you don’t think a remarkable resemblance is anything like evidence that Angela Ealing is still spry, hot as hell and supervising her foundation at the age of 134?”

“Have you ever read the mission statement of the Ealing Foundation?”

“Well, I’m a bit embarrassed to admit it, but no.”

“Its official purpose is to prepare the most comprehensive map and catalog of the universe possible; to that end it has funded telescopes in every part of the electromagnetic spectrum, given scholarships to promising astrophysics students like you, provided grants to develop better imaging software, and awarded prizes to scientists who think up new ways to observe, as the statement puts it, ‘the full extent of Creation, both visible and hidden‘.  For the past 20 years its’ been heavily investing in dark matter research.”deep-sky-dark-matter

“Well, yeah, I knew all that.”

“But do you know who wrote that policy?”

“Angela?”

“Yep.  At the ripe old age of 19.”

“But…she died 42 years ago.”

“As a recluse.  This is the only existing photo of her.  Would you like to see photos of Gabrielle’s mother, who incidentally was an Ealing too?  She was a single mother and supposedly moved to Sydney four years ago.”

“Do I really need to?”

Abe answered with a few mouse clicks, bringing up another enhanced image of what at first glance was exactly the same woman.  “She didn’t like pictures, but this was manipulated from a shot taken at a reception in 1999, the year Gabrielle was supposed to have been born.”

“OK, just for the sake of argument, let’s say I buy all this.  If it’s true, what’s she after?”

Abe pondered for a few minutes, trying to find the right way to express his idea.  “Imagine you’re a traveler; not an explorer or a scientist, just an ordinary tourist.  And let’s say some kind of accident happens, and your pilot or guide or whatever is killed, stranding you in some strange place far from home.  What do you do?”

“Well, obviously try to get home in any way I can.”

“And what if you don’t really know where home is, and neither does anyone in the country where you find yourself?”

Doris looked at the three images on the screen and felt the gooseflesh rise on her arms.  “I’d try to collect as many maps as I could until I saw something I recognized.”

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When I say by any means necessary that would be up to those in charge.  –  James Tomes

It recently came to my attention that Mystery Science Theater 3000 has been uploading full episodes onto YouTube, so to call attention to that I’m going to feature their treatment of Prince of Space, one of my favorite so-bad-it’s-good movies (though it pales in comparison to the Starman movies).  The links above it are from Radley Balko (“necessary”), Mike Siegel (“sirree”), Jesse Walker  (“gaslight”), and Mark Bennett (“smug”).

From the Archives

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Says he’s got a thing about burnin’ witches
Ooh, some of these were mighty fine bitches.
– Carl Douglas

Some of you may remember the catchy 1974 hit “Kung Fu Fighting” by Carl Douglas, who was apparently a movie fan because he also wrote & recorded “Witchfinder General”, inspired by the Vincent Price film about Matthew Hopkins.  The video was called to my attention by Jesse Walker, who also provided “cities”; the other links above the video are from Scott GreenfieldTim Cushing (x2),  ClarissaSkye, and Dave Krueger, in that order.

From the Archives

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He should have been surrounded by family at old age, not surrounded by bullets.  –  Roy Serna

Since there seems to be a dearth of holiday videos nowadays, I decided to share this classic from 1939 with you.  It’s an antiwar cartoon from MGM, and though most of the screen time features cute anthropomorphic animals it also features something not found in most mainstream animated films, then or now:  death.  As in actual death, not turning into a cartoon angel and floating up to a cloud.  And on a massive scale, too; if you’ve never seen it, take a few minutes to do so now.  The links above it were provided by Mike Siegel (“Dalek”), Mark Draughn (“protect”),  Franklin Harris (“headline”), Popehat (“Florida” and “night”), Tushy Galore  (“amateurs”), and Elizabeth N. Brown (“denied”).

From the Archives

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