Tuesday, December 14, 2004


One thing I look forward to each week is my postal carrier delivering my magazines. I subscribe to a bunch -- Archaeology, Smithsonian, and the Atlantic to name a few -- and I have been known to hoard them, but I'm working on that.

The mag I've always liked the most was Popular Science. It's the one place where I can read about science, see what NASA's crashed lately, and best of all, not have SF writer issues shoved in my face.

So what happens? I open this month's PopSci issue and, you guessed it, there's a damn SF writer in it screaming about, what else, issues. Not even good issues. Lousy issues. Stupid, infantile, tightfisted little twerp issues. Worse, this genius is going to be writing a monthly column. How much you want to bet it's more of the same? Come on, make me a rich woman.

Anyway, I'm cancelling the subscription. I know, they quoted me once, and it was weirdly flattering but . . . no, sorry, doesn't make up for ruining my favorite mag. (sniff) At least I still have Discover.

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