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How Lovely Are Thy Branches: A Young Wizards Christmas

by Diane Duane December 22, 2014

branches_1280

 

JD 2455550.52 / December 20th, 2010:

It’s five days till Christmas, and the day before the Winter Solstice. The biggest pre-Christmas blizzard seen for decades is heading straight for the New York metropolitan area. But in one small corner of the Town of Hempstead, everyone’s attention is on other business. That’s because there’s a party tonight at Juan and Marina Rodriguez’s house… and the guest of honor is a being from four hundred lightyears away who looks a whole lot like a Christmas tree.

As so often happens, the motive force behind the festivities is the redoubtable Carmela Rodriguez, intent on fulfilling her longtime intention to fulfill one of the great wishes of the wizard known as Filif — specifically, to finally get him into a full set of Christmas decorations. The two-day party that ensues (with an epic sleepover in the middle) brings together a cast of old and new friends to eat, drink, exchange presents, and see a few things the likes of which this world has never seen before…

This 30,000+ word novelette is a canonical work in the Young Wizards universe and takes place between the events of A Wizard of Mars and the forthcoming Games Wizards Play.

Purchase it for USD $4.99 here in all the major ebook formats:

How Lovely Are Thy Branches

(*Battle fleet not included)

December 22, 2014
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Candy Corn
FoodHalloweenHobbyhorses and General RantingHumorObscure interests

Halloween Candy: an idle personal overview

by Diane Duane September 17, 2014

It was seeing this thing that got me thinking about the subject.

…WTF? RT @pattymo: Who will answer for this crime pic.twitter.com/u0h3jqCfIh

— Diane Duane (@dduane)

September 17, 2014

What surprised me after the fact was that the very sight of a “candy corn bar” provoked such a strong reaction from me (“EWWWWWWWWW”) despite my being long past trick-or-treating age.

This response poked me in the curiosity nerve, a little, so I went looking for evidence of whether other people shared anything like it — this idea that some Halloween candies were “right” and others “wrong”.

And a little research suggests there seems to be a bone-deep conservatism on this issue, combined with some regional implications, as various Worst Halloween Candy lists seem to have areas where they agree and then others where they diverge or disagree strongly. (As an example: lists at BC Living, HuffPo (in fact they have a few of these), TopTenz, Serious Eats, Complex, Nooga…) Google will guide you to more if you feel the need for a broader statistical sample.

I always took Halloween very seriously while I was still of participating age, as my family wasn’t particularly well off and there wasn’t that much candy in my lifestyle except at chocolate-heavy holidays like Easter and Christmas. (Fortunately I slipped out of this stage just barely before the OMG BAD PEOPLE ARE PUTTING RAZOR BLADES IN THE APPLES thing got started.* I didn’t mind the apples. I knew they were traditional.) (As they still are in Ireland, which is after all where it all began. Apples and peanuts have been the trick-or-treat staple here for many years: only now are the candies starting to creep into the Irish tradition.)

So for what it’s worth: looking over these lists, I find some common ground, but not complete agreement.

Stuff I liked:

  • Candy corn… legit candy corn. (And still do.)
  • Those marshmallow peanuts. (Don’t ask me why.)
  • Tootsie Rolls. (In the 60s they were better than they are now. There seems to be so much wax in them now that you could stick wicks in them and light them as candles in emergency situations.)
  • Full size candy bars. I was never a Snickers person: I prefer my peanuts separate from candy, as a rule. (Also, no Reese’s Cups for me: you can keep your peanut butter OUT of my chocolate, thank you very much. If I want peanut butter I’ll go make a sandwich.) …Three Musketeers was (and when in the US still is) my preferred bar. I had a brief flirtation with Baby Ruths but it never came to anything. The US Mars bar was and is different from the UK one, but I like them both. (And steal Peter’s occasionally.)
  • Licorice, especially the long “licorice whips.” Preferably the red ones, though I didn’t mind the black. I may be the only kid I knew at that period who actually liked licorice. (But then I liked spinach, and liver. Even from a young age I felt that normalcy was boring / for other people: it’s probably no surprise in retrospect that I should have become a Sherlock Holmes fan.)
  • Nonpareils. Those used to turn up in little boxes in my part of the NY metropolitan area. God, but I loved those things. (And if you handed me a bag of them now you’d get it back empty.)
  • M&Ms. Chocolate, not peanut. The same as the nonpareils. Then and now I could go through a bag of M&Ms with terrifying speed.
  • Candy cigarettes. My one attempt to become a smoker failed miserably — how could anyone do that, I thought at the time, it tasted awful!! — but there was just something about the texture of these things, the crunch, that I adored. Suck it until it was gone? You must be joking. Gone in three crunches.
  • Pixy Stix. Oh God I loved those. Strong sweet/sour contrasts have always been a draw for me.
  • Space Food Sticks! The chocolate ones. Wow I loved those too. Rare to get them in a Halloween haul, but when they turned up they were memorable.

Stuff I had no time for (and would swap with others who liked them):

  • Those Necco wafers. Not enough flavor.
  • Mary Janes. Boring.
  • Good and Plenty. Something about the candy shells always put me off. (Maybe they were distracting me from the licorice.)
  • Taffy candies generally, the exception being Bit O Honeys. Those were all right.
  • Lollipops in general. Normally too much work, not enough taste. Some Tootsie Pops made it over the bar, depending on the flavor.
  • Gum. Bubble, plain, whatever. Boring again.

Seasonal considerations: There were things I had no time for at Halloween because they were readily available at other times from the store up around the corner on Park Avenue:

  • The candy buttons.
  • The wax bottles containing dubious sweet liquids.
  • The wax lips.
  • Candy necklaces, bracelets, etc.
  • Those little wafer “flying saucers” with some kind of tiny hard candy inside them.

…Anyway. Enough of this: I haven’t even had all my breakfast yet.

(Meanwhile, for those of you who’re feeling nostalgic: have a look at OldTimeCandy.com. They have the stuff arranged by decades.)

*Has anyone ever actually found a razor blade in an apple? I mean, verifiably? With pictures? Or is this one of those Urban Myth Coinciding With Early TV/Mass Media Attention Causes Hospital X-Ray Departments Nationwide To Waste Millions Of Person-Hours On One Day Each Year things?

(See also People Being Gassed In Sleeper Compartments of European Trains And All Their Stuff Stolen. I went hunting for non-anecdotal data on this some years back and couldn’t find anything. My firm belief is that back in the day, numerous weary and stressed-out travelers were careless / clueless about making sure their sleeper compartments’ doors were actually locked before they went to sleep, and then desperately needed a face-saving excuse the morning after opportunistic thieves, or in some cases their fellow sleeper compartment occupiers, had ripped them off while they slept through it like the dead. “I mean, I’m a light sleeper, I would’ve heard anybody come in unless something else was going on. It must have been gas! Gas!” …But I digress.)

September 17, 2014
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Humor

lileks: Oh God the tables have turned please do not put me in…

by Diane Duane July 15, 2014

lileksbunny

lileks:

Oh God the tables have turned please do not put me in your pants I am sorry I put you in my pants

 

I think I’d probably better stop reblogging these right now. Having enough trouble breathing right now as it is. 🙂

This was crossposted from DD’s tumblr http://ift.tt/1nsxMGf, where it was published on July 15, 2014 at 03:58PM

July 15, 2014
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DrinkHobbyhorses and General RantingHumorreligion

In the Afterlife After-Hours Bar

by Diane Duane November 21, 2013

You know the place. It’s where deities and divinities and avatars go when they’ve clocked off and they need a casual after-work pint or a quick remedial stiff one or some casual conversation with their peers before going home to the family.

So Christ is sitting there nursing a nice Pinot Grigio (he gets so tired of red wine, you have no idea) and he’s saying to the gods and near-gods at the bar with him, “You know what really gets to me, though? The tat. The kitsch. The dashboard ornaments, the endless dodgy art — ”

“I saw that doll,” says somebody down the bar past Mithras and Izanagi: a god with his hood pulled up and a long cloak that looks and flows like shadow. “With the puffy sleeves and the crown.”

“The Infant of Prague, yeah. Take my advice, do not do apparitions after hours in Prague, it’s something about the beer they brew there, what those people will do to you after the fact just does not bear considering. But you know what’s worst? The ‘Sacred Heart.'” He actually does the air quotes, which leave little traces of (appropriately) red fire. “On the front of me, outside my clothes, like I’ve had some kind of bass-ackwards transplant. Usually with rays of light coming out of it. Aorta and vena cava and wobbly bits all aglow. There is nothing that does not appear on. Lunch boxes. Key chains. Night lights, do you believe that? How many kids’ nights have been ruined by having that thing glowing at them like a refugee from a Bill Cosby skit? You should see some of the stores at CafePress. I’m amazed they haven’t done My Sacred Spleen yet. Except probably none of them can figure out where it would go.” He rolls his eyes. “I have it way worse than any of you.”

Mutterings of agreement run up and down the bar. Then a voice speaks up.

“I got that beat.”

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November 21, 2013
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Herself cover image
ebooksEbooks DirectEuropeHumorIrelandWriting

For Bloomsday: “Herself”

by Diane Duane June 15, 2013

In the heart of Dublin, something is killing the People of the Hills — and it’s going to take Ireland’s only superhero to stop it…

Bloomsday is almost upon us, so here’s a little something to help celebrate the occasion.

“Herself” was originally written for the 2004 anthology of Irish fantasy, Emerald Magic, and differs from most other stories in that anthology in that it’s urban fantasy, set in pre-economic-crash Dublin. It was a very different time, now looked back on in Ireland as often with a kind of loathing as with longing: and the story tells of a danger that walked the streets of the Fair City in those days, and how some of the town’s more unusual residents dealt with it.

Sometimes when Bloomsday rolls around it’s available for reading here (under the cut). It’s gone right now, but  if you’re interested in reading it you can pick up a copy of the collection in which it appears, “Uptown Local” and Other Interventions.

 

June 15, 2013
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AstronomyEuropeHistoryHome lifeHumorIrelandMediaOOA2tumblrpredicting the futurepredicting the future badlyreligionthings that piss you off

Dude, where’s my Apocalypse?!

by Diane Duane December 21, 2012

Does anybody have an 800 number for the ancient Mayans? Because I need to lodge a complaint.

Seriously, 2012 has been something of a wash all around.  Tragedies. Mass shootings. Anguish of all kinds. Local cataclysms of the flood-and-earthquake variety. Wars and rumors of war (well, yeah, we always have those, but this year has seemed worse than usual for some reason).  Superstorms. Droughts and famines. Endless human pain. (And other species are suffering too, obviously, but in typically human fashion it’s our own pain we notice most.)

A nice hefty apocalypse would’ve really taken the edge off all of those.

Because just think of it.  No more… well, no more [fill in the blank with whatever really gets on your case]. I have my own list:  full of the great tragedies above, but also full of many lesser ones, of annoyances and  disappointments and things that just get under my skin. No more Prometheus.  No more robocalling marketers. No more fiscal cliffs.  No more spam. No more Windows 8.  No more Apple Maps.  Crash a runaway planet or so into us and it’s all over with, and good riddance. (I really would miss never seeing season 3 of Sherlock or the remaining Hobbit films, but when so much evil would be wiped out at the same time, it seems petty to complain.)

Yet after all this effing buildup, what have we got this morning?

Bupkis!

It’s been beyond annoying, really: partly because we were promised two others of these this year. One of them was going to be a few days after my birthday. I thought, “Yeah, typical. I hit a landmark year and then have three days to enjoy it: whose good idea was this??” And the day came — it was supposed to be one of those raptures or something similar — and what do we get?

Nothing.

Then immediately the guy responsible for the math says, “Whoops, no, calculation error, God moves in mysterious ways, I haven’t been told everything, uh, human error, that’s the ticket. It’s going to be October.” The designated date was right after Peter’s birthday this time.  P. simply said, “Great, I get a party and no hangover!” — trust him to see the bright side of an apocalypse: this kind of behavior is the reason I married the man. And the day comes, and we have our little party, and the day goes, and what do we get?

Zip. Zilch. Nada.

What’s the saying? Once might be an accident. Twice could be coincidence. But the third time? Enemy action. The third time, any sensible person would pick up the phone and call Customer Service and say, “This is unacceptable. Something is really wrong at the fulfillment end. You need to do something to put this right.”

But who do I complain to?

Because now we’re going to hear the old song again…  all the stuff about how complex the problem is, how you can’t possibly blame any one person or organization. It was this writer. Or that broadcasting personality. It was a runaway meme. It was publicity-seeking New Agers — that’ll be a popular one. You can just see what the news is going to look like tomorrow, as all these people who promised us an End Of The World that could actually be worth something start pointing at each other and trying to shift the blame.

“Miscalculations in the calendar” — I bet that’ll be the most popular excuse. Rounding errors. Failure to correctly convert metric to imperial, or the other way around. (At least one Mars probe went God knows where because of that: you’d think people would’ve learned better by now! Seriously.) Or wait a moment, no, it’ll all have been a translation error, won’t it? Such a subjective art. Yeah, let’s blame the translators. Like they don’t already have enough on their plates.

I guess there’s nothing for it but to settle in for a nice long session of watching the fingerpointing, until the news cycle gets bored with it and cycles on.  (And I bet that won’t happen soon enough for some of these people, who’ve thought nothing in particular of inflicting their own crazy paranoias on the rest of the planet at large.) It’ll be just like the week after the US Presidential election all over again, with all the people who thought Romney was such a shoe-in suddenly finding all these great reasons how the other guys in the party screwed it up. “Wait, what? Women? Black and hispanic voters? Young voters? He said not to pay them any mind…! Yeah, him over there. And Romney, pff, I never really liked him anyway…”

Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m not going to let this slide.  I want to march up to somebody’s desk and get this made right. I don’t care what it takes: they can bloody well get DHL or FedEx on it, for God’s sake, but I want that runaway planet or whatever the hell it was supposed to be on my desk by tomorrow morning at the latest. And in the meantime, until the email with the tracking number comes in, I just want an answer.

Dude, where’s my apocalypse?!

December 21, 2012
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James the Butler and that tigerskin
DrinkEuropeFilm and TVFoodHumorMediaObscure interestsrecipesTV in general

Dinner for One

by Diane Duane December 15, 2011

A peculiar thing happens in a number of European countries, mostly (but not all) German-speaking, on or around New Year’s Eve. The TV stations begin showing the same brief comedy sketch again and again. What’s truly unusual about this is that the sketch is in English — recorded nearly 50 years ago in front of a German audience — and has since become a cult classic. For a surprising number of German-speaking people, the words “Same procedure as last year, Miss Sophie?” are not only the English-language phrase they know best, but are held in the same kind of humorous context as the phrases “No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!” or “It is an ex-parrot!”

The sketch “Dinner for One” — the German name of the sketch translates as “The 90th Birthday” — doesn’t really have anything to do with New Year’s (though one “virtually present” character does say “Happy New Year” at one point, which may be the source of the confusion). It tells the story of a birthday party. Miss Sophie (played by actress May Warden, who later appeared on Doctor Who and in A Clockwork Orange) is 90, and the table is set for herself and her four friends: Sir Toby, Admiral von Schneider, Mr. Pommeroy, and Mr. Winterbottom. Unfortunately time has taken its inevitable toll, and of the five of them, only Miss Sophie is still alive.

Assisting at dinner is James, Miss Sophie’s butler (played by veteran British comedian Freddie Frinton). It falls to him not only to serve dinner, but to impersonate the four missing dinner guests for a lady who may or may not be entirely clear that they’re no longer among the living. As part of the act, James has to drink their traditional toasts to Miss Sophie — all of them — and becomes progressively more sloshed and goofy as dinner progresses. But he just keeps soldiering on — serving dinner and “channeling” the four missing guests, while also locked in silent battle with the tigerskin that lies in wait for him every time he makes another circuit of the table.

The sketch is a tremendous showcase of Freddie Frinton’s complete mastery of comic timing, and for a long time we were forced to simply describe it at one remove to people who hadn’t been in a country where and when it was being aired. But time has moved along, taking “Dinner for One” with it into the new century, and the whole business is now happily viewable on YouTube — both in its original black and white, and in a newer colorized version.

I prefer the black and white version, and the link to that is here. It’s also embedded below. (Note that the original German version starts with a gentle intro by a German-speaking host, who explains what’s forthcoming to those who haven’t seen it before, and more or less reassures the audience that it’s okay to find this poor dotty old lady a bit amusing. If you prefer to skip the intro, advance the video to about the 2min:25sec stage.)

A holiday tradition has built up around “Dinner for One” in the German-speaking countries of central Europe, and elsewhere too (in Scandinavia, the Baltics, and as far afield as New Zealand). On New Year’s eve it shows on practically every TV network, public or private, in Germany, Switzerland and Austria. Some of them show it several times back to back. (At least one of the channels within the last few years showed it for 24 hours straight… quite a run for an eleven-minute short.) It also appears in dubs in many regional European dialects, and even in Latin.

All this loving attention has won “Dinner for One” the uncontested title as the single most rerun piece of standalone television on Earth. People stage drinking games around it; they hold dinner parties based on the one that James serves to Miss Sophie; they hunt down the best recipes for “the fowl” and that “North Sea haddock”; they enthusiastically debate the choice of the wines that go with each course. The skit’s fandom includes millions of people across all walks of life who have nothing in common except this one remarkable piece of comedy, to which they return year after year — most of them swearing that a New Year’s without it is simply unthinkable.

The aspect of this phenomenon that remains truly bizarre is that though “Dinner for One” was filmed in the UK, it’s never been aired there except in one seconds-long excerpt on that most excellent of quiz shows QI, and is almost completely unknown to British people. Every now and then it pops up on the British radar due to very occasional coverage in the UK press, like this 2002 article in the Guardian and this one in 2004: but then it vanishes again. The BBC seems uninterested in airing it: they apparently don’t think it’s funny. (And they have no answer whatsoever for why the Germans, who most British people apparently seem to think have no sense of humor, find the “Dinner for One” skit hilarious and will recite it to each other, in English [whether they understand the English or not] as if it was a Monty Python skit.)

This is a situation that probably won’t change any time in the near future. But “Dinner for One” itself is worth spreading around for its gentle awesomeness. Meanwhile, over at EuropeanCuisines.com, we’ve posted recipes / articles on the four courses:

  • “Sherry with the soup”: Miss Sophie’s Mulligatawny Soup
  • “White wine with the fish”: Miss Sophie’s Haddock
  • “Champagne with the bird”: Miss Sophie’s Poulet roti
  • “Port with the fruit”: The traditional British fruit plate

NDR now has a whole page devoted to the story of “Dinner for One” and its stars, here.

December 15, 2011
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AnimationFilm and TVHumorTV in generalWriting

"The Six Tasks of Snowman Hank": an outline

by Diane Duane December 9, 2011

It all started with this tweet from @DonSpeirs:

“@wilw @dduane fan project for #Kimvention2012 – What do you think the 6 Tasks of Snowman Hank were? #kimpossible #snowmanhank”

…All I can say is… it got me thinking. Too many people know that I love the Kim Possible series dearly, for a number of reasons including the relative smoothness with which the characters grow and change. And then the tweet reminded me of the Christmas episode, which is… quirky. (And which I particularly love for its self- and extra-referential qualities.)

So I sat down for several days and did some development thinking, and then wrote. (For those who’re interested in seeing some notes on how a writer goes about making a nonexistent Christmas special out of a minute and a half of video and a few lines of dialogue, they’re here.) And below you’ll now find what an animation writer in a hurry (and possibly also a few drinks gone in pre-Christmas cheer) might have turned in to a tolerant story editor at some 80’s network as the first-draft outline for “The Six Tasks of Snowman Hank.” (I more or less imagine the story editor as being Art Nadel, that prince among producers, who gave many a new animation writer his or her leg-up into the industry in the Eighties.)

I don’t often get to do the disclaimer thing, so here it is:

The Snowman Hank character originated in an episode of the Walt Disney Television Animation  series Kim Possible, and therefore is the property of Disney. (But you knew that.)

This is a work of fan fiction and is copyright to Disney Enterprises Inc. if to anyone.

Everybody clear on that?

Good. Then let’s roll. …One other thing: there are songs in this. Songwriting isn’t in my skillset, so I’ve merely indicated what the songs should be like, or do to the listener. Use your imaginations.

 


 

THE SIX TASKS OF SNOWMAN HANK

 

ACT ONE

We open on a snowy Rockies landscape over which towers the imposing and magical BLIZZARD MOUNTAIN. Running down the mountain slopes, Snowline Canyon ends in a sheltered spot called HANK’S CORRAL.

Here we meet SNOWMAN HANK, who for most of the year lives a somewhat solitary and sedate (if musical) life as protector of the local forest and mountain creatures. But he’s not right in the middle of his favorite time of year, and his busiest. It’s Christmas Eve, and tonight it’ll be Hank’s job to round up the magical walking fir trees of Blizzard Mountain in his corral, and then head them down to Snowline Junction — the last stop on the steam train line that runs down to Summertown at the foot of the mountain. It’s from Blizzard Mountain that all the people for miles around get their Christmas trees, and Hank knows that they depend on him to make a really important part of Christmas happen.

It’s almost time for the big Walking Tree Roundup, and Hank is practicing [THE TREE ROUNDUP SONG] one last time before it’s time to start the real thing going. But he’s interrupted in his practice by a huge ruckus outside the Corral. Within seconds a COYOTE comes tearing into the Corral in hot pursuit of a SNOWSHOE HARE. Though these two are both friends of Hank’s, they’re natural enemies, and they never miss a chance to make each other’s life miserable if they can.

Hank breaks them up in a way that suggests he’s an old hand at this. The hare, JOSH, and the coyote, LUCIUS, immediately start squabbling over who’s going to deliver the important news they’re carrying to Hank, and he has to break them up all over again. Finally the news comes out that the rustic road that runs up and down the mountainside – the one the Walking Trees use on their way down to the train depot — has been blocked by a landslide.

“So let’s go clear the way,” Hank says. Slinging his trusty guitar CHANTEUSE over his shoulder – because Hank would never go anywhere without her – he heads up the mountain along with Lucius and Josh (who keep fighting all the way). This time it takes [A ROLLICKING SONG ABOUT NOT BEATING UP ON THE PEOPLE AROUND YOU EVEN IF YOU DON’T LIKE THEM MUCH: TITLE GOES HERE]  to break up their squabbling  and get them on track to be of some kind of use to deal with the blocked road when they reach the trouble spot. (The trees, already eager to get going, can be seen bopping in time to the music in the background as the three friends move along. The implication is that Hank’s music is itself magical and one of the things that helps the trees move.)

Shortly they get to the place where the road is blocked by a huge heap of stones and rubble. Josh and Lucius start vying with each other in trying to get rid of the rocks, but they’re too small to do much but produce a lot of inadvertent physical comedy, and they make no real difference at all. Finally Hank uses his guitar again to play a MAGIC DANCE TUNE so bouncy and irresistible that the piled-up stones just boogie off to either side of the road and then roll down off the side of the mountain.

Josh and Lucius cheer, and Hank, pleased, reckons that he can go back home now and start getting ready for the Walking Tree Roundup. But just as he’s turning to make his way back, from further up the road someone slowly appears who none of them were expecting to see. It’s a tortoise called TERRY.

Terry’s another old friend of Hank’s, very old (though he looks fairly young) and very wise. Normally he wouldn’t be out and around at this time of year, but now he looks around with the air of someone who’s half expected what he sees. “Yup, this is about when it was supposed to happen,” Terry says.

“When what was supposed to happen?” says Josh.

“The tasks,” Terry says. “Years ‘n’ years ago, the Medicine Woman of the Blizzard Mountain Tribe told me how it’d happen. There’d be a time when the rocks start rolling, and the rivers wouldn’t flow, and the trees wouldn’t walk — and a winter would come that there wouldn’t be a spring after. Then someone’d have to do six tasks to put it all right. Looks like this was one of those tasks…”

“But there’s nothing wrong with the trees!”

“You sure about that?”

Worried, Hank starts playing Chanteuse and singing the TREE ROUNDUP SONG – even though it’s not time for it yet – and though the trees try to get up out of the ground and follow him, they aren’t able to. He’s horrified. “They can’t walk! And if they can’t walk there won’t be any Christmas trees for the kids down in Summertown!”

“So there you go,” Terry says. “Better get started on fixing this up before Christmas comes…”

Hank isn’t wild about the idea that he’s the one meant to do these mysterious tasks, but he agrees – however reluctantly – that he has to at least find out why the trees can’t walk, and solve the problem somehow. “Won’t be easy,” Terry says. “You’ve got to find what’s been lost and give up what you’ve found… make a friend, make an enemy, underneath the ground. When the rocks start rolling and the rivers won’t flow, then what can’t move will show you the way you have to go.”

All this is obscure and troubling, but Hank’s not the type to shirk a job that needs doing. “Better get on with it, then,” he mutters, and starts heading up the mountain along the newly cleared road. “But how come you never told me about this before?”

“Wasn’t the time, and anyway, you never asked,” Terry says as he slowly follows Hank and the others. “Don’t wait up for me, son, you just get going, you’ve got five more tasks to do…”

“What kind of friend are you gonna make under the ground?”  Josh wonders. “Or what kind of enemy?” says Lucius. They start squabbling over which of the two clues is more important, and Hank has to separate them again. “One thing at a time, boys,” he says. “I’m more worried about the idea that some river might stop flowing. There’s only one river on Blizzard Mountain, and a lot of critters depend on it. Better go check it out…”

They make their way further up the mountain and are met by a PRAIRIE DOG named  PAULA. “Snowman Hank!” she says, “thank goodness you’ve come! It’s the river!”

“Lead the way,” Hank says.  Following Paula, they make their way to the nearby riverbank – and find the river frozen solid!

 

ACT TWO:

“Hotspring River’s frozen clean over,” Hank says as they survey the icy expanse. “Never thought I’d see the day!”

“How can this be happening?” Josh cries. “This is plumb freaky!” says Lucius.

Hank’s inclined to agree. But for the moment he unslings Chanteuse and starts to play and sing [A JOLLY BREAKING-THE-ICE SONG]. As he does, the ice starts to shatter and is gradually carried away down the watercourse. “Thanks, Hank!” Paula says. “We knew you could help!”

“Not sure I have, though,” Hank says, reslinging Chanteuse. “That river’s never frozen before, not even in the Big Snow of ’33. Whatever’s going on, it needs more looking into. Come on.” And he starts uphill.

“But where are we going?” Paula says, falling in with the others.

“You got trouble with a river, go to the source,” Hank says.

“You mean – the Haunted Caves of Blizzard Mountain?”

Everybody freaks a little at the very idea. But Hank just keeps going with a look of increasingly grim determination, and the others follow him…

Soon they’re entering an area where the trees are very high and thick and close together. “Shadowpine Forest,” Hank says. “These are the oldest trees on Blizzard Mountain.” And he sounds a little uneasy, which doesn’t help the others’ composure. “Don’t normally bother them this time of year. They’re full of old tree thoughts, they deserve their peace…” But it’s while making their way through this spooky area that they start hearing strange high voices calling.

“Ghosts!” Josh shrieks, and “Ice goblins!” Lucius yells, and both of them dive for cover (in pointedly opposite directions).

But the sound has nothing to do with goblins or ghosts. Hiding from them under the huge trees – because they’re as unnerved by Hank and his friends as Hank’s companions are by the voices – they shortly discover two CHILDREN, a brother and sister named BOB and BABS. “What’re you young un’s doing all the way up here all by yourself in this weather?” Hank says, for the snowclouds are moving in.

“We were looking for a Christmas tree,” Bob says, apparently recovering instantaneously from being encountering a talking snowman with a guitar.

“Our family doesn’t have a lot of money this Christmas,” says Babs. “Our folks said we might not be able to have a tree this year. So we thought…”

“You thought you’d come up and try to find one for yourselves,” Hank says softly.

“And then we got lost,” Bob says. “And we couldn’t find our way down again,” says Babs. “And we’re cold… and we just want to go home!” they plead in unison.

“Your folks’ll be going plumb loco looking for you,” Hank says. “We need to get you back to your family!” And he looks like he’d rather do nothing else. But all the same, he looks up the mountain. “Might not be safe for you right now, though,” he says. And as he speaks, the first flakes of snow start falling. It’s getting dark…

“We’ll take them down the mountain, Hank,” says Lucius. “I’ll help him,” says Josh.

Lucius starts bristling. “I don’t need your help, you varmint – ”

But Hank shakes his head. “Better if we all stick together,” Hank says. “Safety in numbers.” He tries to sound cheerful and confident, but the look on his face as he leads the group out of the Darkpine Forest and onward up the mountain suggests that he’s not sure how safe they’re all going to be. He starts playing and singing [A CHEERFUL WE’RE-ON-AN-ADVENTURE SONG] as they head up the mountain, and the kids and animals chime in. But Hank is worried…

The snow is falling faster now, and it’s almost night as the group reaches the place where Hot Spring River comes out of the mountainside. The river’s banks are almost completely covered with ice and the river’s stream is narrowed to a mere trickle:  almost as they watch, it freezes over again.

“Thought this might happen,” Hank says. “I’ve got to go in and find out what’s going on. ‘What doesn’t move will show you the way…’” To the children he says, “Hate to say it, but I think you’d best come with: we still ought to stay together.”

“We’re not afraid,” Babs says.  “Much,” Bob says.

“That’s the spirit,” Hank says. “Just keep your eyes open. We’ll sort out whatever’s wrong in there and get you back down to Summertown and your family by Christmas.”

The kids produce flashlights they’ve wisely brought with them.  Everyone’s a little nervous, but Hank’s unwavering certainty that good will prevail becomes the solid center around which all of them coalesce, like the single grain of ice at the heart of a snowflake.  All together, they move into the cave and vanish in the darkness…

 

ACT THREE:

The group makes its way deeper and deeper into the cave, weaving their way among stalagmites like stone Christmas trees and stalactites like huge stone icicles. Though they’re creepy, the caverns are also glitteringly beautiful, and even Lucius and Josh, who’ve been paranoid about ghosts, are beginning to relax a little.

At one point, however, the kids become too cold to go on, and the party pauses for a rest and to try to warm them up. There’s no point in trying to cuddle up to a snowman, and Hank knows he can’t be of any use to Babs and Bob that way: but all the other critters crowd in close, and shortly Bob and Babs are wearing a coat of live snowshoe rabbit, coyote and prairie dog fur. Hank unlimbers Chanteuse and sings [A HEARTRENDINGLY SEASONAL SONG ABOUT THE IMPORTANCE OF FAMILY: SOMEBODY GET SONDHEIM IN HERE, PLEASE, OR ELSE RAISE JOHNNY MARKS OR IRVING BERLIN FROM THE DEAD]. And as he sings the part about looking for a family until you find one, the critters exchange sad glances.

The kids, rested and warmed up, now jump up and are ready to carry on. Josh, though, and Lucius, have a quiet word with the snowman. “Hank… you know you have a family. You have us.”

“I know I do.” But it sounds like Hank’s not terribly sure. He gets up. “Come on, folks. We should get moving. The sooner we’ve found out what’s going on here, the sooner we can get you kids back down to your nice warm house in Summertown…”

They start moving again through the cavern and are surprised when ahead of them they hear a voice calling for help. Hank immediately follows it: the others rush headlong past him, and alarmed, Hank hurries to stop them. Which is a good thing, because in the darkness they nearly fall into a bottomless crevasse! They just manage to stop in time — though Josh and Lucius pitch over the edge together. The crisis of the moment forces them to bypass their normal sniping and help each other up and out.

Carefully the group makes its way around the edges of the crevasse to the other side. Far down the passage they can see a faint light, and between them and the light there’s the silhouette of a skinny wavering shape.  To their surprise, they find it’s a snake (in a Stetson) named BOOMSLANG BILL. As they get close to him, Bart coils up and rattles and threatens them. “You consarned little varmint!” Lucius says, but he’s not willing to get too close. Neither is Josh. Paula, though, seriously annoyed at what just nearly happened to the other two, simply flings herself at Bill and sits down on him just behind the head.

He thrashes around, but can’t make any headway: Paula is substantial. “You can torture me, but I won’t talk!” he shouts.

“You better stop wiggling around or I’ll give you something to talk about, snake boy!” Paula says.

But Hank steps in. “No need to be mean to him just because we got off on the wrong foot,” he says. “So to speak. Pardner, what’d you mean by acting like you were in trouble? You nearly made us fall right down that almighty hole!”

“I was following my master’s orders! He told me to do it.”

“Your master, huh,” Hank says, grabbing the snake out from under Paula. “And just where might he be?”

The snake indicates the faint light down at the end of the tunnel, and starts shivering. “Down there…”

“That’s where it’s coldest, all right,” Josh says. All of them are feeling colder now.

“Well, I reckon he’s the one we’ve come to see,” Hank says, “so you’d better just bring us to him. You have any problems with that?”

“Yes!” Bill shouts. “Uh, actually, no,” he adds a lot more quietly.

“Good,” Hank says. “You do right by us, son, we’ll do right by you. Lead the way.”

The group heads toward the faint chilly light in the distance.  Boomslang Bill is plainly confused by the treatment he’s receiving. “How come you aren’t…you know…”

“Nobody’s gonna torture anybody, snake boy,” Paula says. “We don’t operate that way. What’re you doing working for some bad guy anyway?”

“My mom said I had to,” Bill says after a moment. “She said this job would be perfect for me. Because I was so cold-blooded…” And suddenly he bursts into sobs. “I never asked to be cold-blooded!”

The critters exchange skeptical looks. “Sounds like an occupational hazard for a snake,” Josh mutters.

“That’s just the problem! I didn’t want to be venomous! But there are all these expectations – “   Bill continues to vent, while the other critters, somewhat bemused, take turns listening to him.

At the end of the tunnel they soon find a huge cavern, definitely haunted… but not in the usual way. At the center of it is a DARK, MANLIKE SHAPE on an icy throne.  In the entrance to the cavern, everyone freezes at the sight.

Then Hank unslings Chanteuse and very slowly moves toward the throne. It’s a gunslinger moment: snowmen don’t wear spurs, but you can almost hear them jingling.

The shape on the throne doesn’t move, just watches Hank come. The watcher looks like Jack Frost gone bad, a Black Bart-like anti-Santa in black and icy silver Western attire.  Around the crown of the black Stetson he wears is a second crown of ice, and the cavern around his throne is filled with nasty-looking four-legged ICE GOBLINS that growl and glare at the visitors.

Hank, though, stays casual and grimly calm. “Who might you be, stranger?” he says. “And what’re you doing on my mountain?”

“I’m King Zero,” says the figure lounging on the throne. “Absolute Zero… but you just call me Zero.”  He chuckles. “I’m from as far away West as you can get… right out past the Sun, where there’s nothing but night. I’m what’s darker than night, and colder than any winter in the world. And as for what I’m doing here, why, I came to see you, Hank!”

“Me?”

“Of course. Who hasn’t heard of Snowman Hank and his famous enchanted guitar, and the magic mountain they guard? I thought I’d mosey out this way and see the man, or shall I say snowman, for myself…see if he’s all he’s cracked up to be. And now that I’ve seen your neighborhood… I think I like it here. Might just settle down… forever.”

The children and all the critters shiver with dread, and Hank plainly isn’t pleased by the prospect. “Wouldn’t have thought you’d mind, Hank,” says Zero. “You’re a snowman. Summer’s your enemy.  While I’m here you can go anywhere you like, any time of year, instead of having to stay all alone up above the snowline like a prisoner.”

The “not being alone” reference plainly hits Hank where it hurts. But he shakes his head. “Some kinds of alone ain’t so bad,” Hank says. “And you moving in here would mean there’d be nothing alive on the mountain soon, or for miles around. Even the trees would die. Can’t have that.”

“Don’t rightly know that you can get rid of me, though,” says Zero. “Don’t think you have the power. And now that I’ve got you here, here you’ll stay, you and your friends.”

He gestures, and the snarling ice goblins move in from all sides, cutting off any retreat and surrounding the visitors. Zero laughs an evil laugh as the children cling to each other in terror and the animals shiver in fear. “We’ll have a long long while to get acquainted. Forevermore…”

 

ACT FOUR:

Everyone is (understandably) thoroughly freaked out by the idea of being prisoners of the evil Zero inside the icy mountain for the rest of their lives (if not longer). But Hank is holding his nerve. “If it’s me and Chanteuse you came to see,” Hank says, “then I don’t know if it’s smart to antagonize us.” Zero turns a cruel, cold look on him. “But on the other hand,” Hank says, “if we’re so all-fired famous, then maybe you’d like to find out why.”

“A private concert?” Zero says, and smiles a wicked smile. “You interest me strangely.”

“I’ll play and sing my best for you,” Hank says. “But there’s a price to pay.”

“And what might that be?”

“You let the children and my friends go free.”

Zero considers this with nasty pleasure for a moment. “They’re not important,” he says. “Done.”

“And one more thing,” says Hank. “If you’re not afraid to have a little gamble.”

“Afraid??”

Hank ignores the threat in the word. “I bet when I sing for you, I can make you cry.”

“If I do?”

“Then you’ll take yourself right off my mountain and never come back.”

“And if I don’t, and you lose?”

Hank shivers. “Then you can stay. And when the others go, I stay too.”

All the critters and the children shout “No!” “You can’t do it, Hank!” “We need you!”

But he’s not listening. And neither is Zero. “To have Snowman Hank as my personal entertainment for all of time…” A long pause, and another of those awful smiles. “Done again. Sing your song.”

Hank lifts up Chanteuse and strikes a chord, and SINGS. And sure enough, at the end of [AN IMPOSSIBLY TENDER SONG ABOUT LOSS AND LONGING THAT WOULD MAKE EVEN A BROADCAST STANDARDS AND PRACTICES SUIT CRY], one lone tear steals down Zero’s cheek (and freezes there).

Zero is obviously furious at losing the bet, but for the moment he holds still. “And now,” Hank says, “if you’ll excuse us, we have to go — ”

“But it’s too late for you already,” Zero says, and smiles another of those wicked smiles. “Don’t you understand? It’s almost midnight on Christmas Eve, and your time’s up.  Not all the tasks are done. The river… the blocked road… finding the lost… and facing me down at the heart of Blizzard Mountain… those four things you’ve done. Soon, when you take the children home as you promised, before it’s Christmas, you’ll lose what you found, and that’s the fifth task. But you still won’t have brought the trees down to Summertown. That’s task number six, the one you’ve always done easily every year until now. Not tonight, though. You’ve only got time to do one or the other before midnight. And if the trees don’t walk before Christmas Day… I can come back.”

Everyone gasps. Even Hank quails at this awful news. But after a moment he straightens up and looks at the guitar in his hands –

And throws Chanteuse to Josh, Lucius and Paula. “Take her and run for it!” he cries, snatches up Bob and Babs, one under each arm, and flees.

“Take me with you!” Boomslang Bill cries. Paula grabs him, and the whole crowd runs back the way they came through a cavern now trembling with Zero’s rage. Stalagmites totter and stalagmites rain down from the cavern ceiling, and there are near-misses and close calls, but with help from Boomslang Bart, who knows the way better than any of them, they manage to break out into the open.

Down at the mountain’s foot, the bells of Summertown strike quarter to twelve on Christmas Eve. Hank doesn’t give the rest of the group a moment’s thought: he bellyflops down in the snow. “Get on my back!” he shouts to Bob and Babs, and the moment they do, he throws himself over the nearby cliffside and starts the wildest toboggan ride down the mountain that anyone could imagine.

It’s a scary ride but also a wonderful one – for what could be better than tobogganing down a mountain in the moonlight on the back of a snowman who knows the way? Bob and Babs hang on for dear life, laughing all the way –

Until they come to the bottom of the mountain, and Summertown. In the distance, Hank can hear voices calling the kids’ names: and he sees lights moving around as their parents search for them. At the bottom of the mountain the kids jump off and run to their folks, and Hank stands and watches this, happy even though he’s also deeply troubled.

As he turns to look back up Blizzard Mountain, he spots Terry the tortoise coming slowly toward him. “Nice work, Hank!” Terry calls. “I knew you’d get it all handled. The road unblocked – the river unfrozen – the one who got it that way sorted out — those lost kids found and brought back to their folks – “

“But it doesn’t matter, Terry! Christmas in Summertown is ruined. There aren’t any trees to gather around and sing carols on Christmas Eve. No trees for the presents to be under first thing in the morning.  I never did the last task. I failed!”

Terry tsks at him and leads him back down around the last curve in the mountain road. “Hank my boy… does this look like failure to you?”

Hank turns and stares… for hundreds of trees are making their way down the mountain, and the children and adults of Summertown are rushing out to greet them. The Walking Tree Roundup is under way without him! Leading the way are Lucius (carrying Chanteuse on his back) and Paula and Josh (helping steady the guitar on either side), while the guitar triumphantly plays the Walking Tree Roundup song by herself! Scrambling along after them are a horde of Josh’s snowshoe rabbit relatives, helping act as informal traffic cops to guide the trees to the families waiting for them. Everyone sings and dances around the trees as they walk to where they’re needed, settling themselves down in front of people’s houses to be decorated out in the open.

A crowd of Summertown’s kids, led by Bob and Babs, rush to Hank and dance around him, too, singing, “To the people far and near, Snowman Hank brought holiday cheer!”

Hank is dumbfounded. “But I didn’t do it – “

“Of course you did, you big snow-brained galoot,” Terry says. “Maybe not directly. But you helped them make it happen!” He laughs. “Who said you had to do all the tasks? You gotta learn to delegate, son.”

“I guess I do!” Hank laughs, as Josh and Lucius and all the others run over to him with Chanteuse. “How’d you get down to the Corral so fast? And then down here?”

“Same way you did,” Lucius says.

“You rode my guitar down Blizzard Mountain?”

Hank grabs Chanteuse from them: she twangs happily as Hank gets his mittens on her and spins her around to make sure that she’s okay. Boomslang Bill promptly falls out of her, headfirst into the snow. “I helped steer!” Bill shouts, somewhat muffled by the snow and his hat.

Terry chuckles. “Anyway, Hank, you should know that Christmas always comes if you make room for it! You made the room… by being willing to set aside what made you happy for what someone else needed more. And it’s more than that…”

“You’re right.” And Hank breaks into the first verse of the song that lies at the core of the story, while his friends gather around and join in the singing.

“It’s not the turkey and the stuffing,
“Or the gifts around the tree:
“It’s a warm and fuzzy feeling
“That begins with you and me!
“Put away those petty problems
“And embrace your fellow man;
“Then join the celebration
“All across this wonderful land!

“Have a ringlin’, jinglin’,
“Kris-Kringlin’ Christmas!
“Have a Hopalong, singalong, happy holiday!
“And when the snow starts falling,
“We’ll voice a hearty cheer
“For the rootin-est, tootin-est, high-falutin-est
“Favorite time of year!”

 

We now start the second verse (somebody else can write this, I’m sure) which will continue over the end titles. But first the camera pans back up to the top of Blizzard Mountain, where Zero is standing outside the cavern entrance, looking down at the light and happy activity. For a moment he frowns. Then as a shred of the song floats up to him, his face relaxes, and he rubs one black-gauntleted finger over the spot where that tear froze, and sniffs once or twice… and smiles.  “Oh well,” he says under his breath to his minions, “They say Greenland is nice this time of year.”

And he vanishes, leaving us to watch the celebrations down at the foot of the mountain as the adults and children of Summertown, some strangely assorted animals, and a singing snowman, all join together to welcome Christmas….


(For some notes on how this outline was written, click here.)


December 9, 2011
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AnimationHumorMediaObscure interestsWriting

Coming December 3-4: "The Six Tasks of Snowman Hank"

by Diane Duane December 2, 2011

It started with this tweet from @DonSpeirs:

“@wilw @dduane fan project for #Kimvention2012 – What do you think the 6 Tasks of Snowman Hank were? #kimpossible #snowmanhank”

…All I can say is… it got me thinking. Too many people know that I love the Kim Possible series dearly, for a number of reasons including the relative smoothness with which the characters grow and change. And then the tweet reminded me of the Christmas episode, which is… quirky. (And which I particularly love for its meta qualities.)

So I’ve posted over here what an animation writer who was in a hurry (and possibly a few drinks gone in pre-Christmas cheer) might have turned in to a tolerant story editor at some 80’s network as the first-draft outline for “The Six Tasks of Snowman Hank.” (I more or less imagine the story editor as being Art Nadel, that prince among producers, who gave many a new animation writer his or her leg-up into the industry in the Eighties.)

(ETA: sorry for the delay in this, folks: I wound up wrestling with a cold over the last few days, and it slowed things up.)

Here’s the original Kim Possible episode, so that everyone has a referent for the peculiarities to follow.

 

December 2, 2011
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"The Misadventures of Prince Ivan": win a copy!

by Diane Duane November 20, 2011

Click the image for a larger version

 

My author’s copies of the new graphic novel arrived last week, so now I have some to give away as part of the celebrations surrounding the release of the new revised/expanded ebook edition of Stealing the Elf-King’s Roses: The Author’s Cut. (Which you might also like to look into if you know the book. Or you can find out more about the book here if you haven’t heard about it before. Also part of the celebration, for those interested: a very-limited-time-only 30% discount on the complete 9-volume Young Wizards International Edition ebook set. Details are here.)

In any case: on to the giveaway!

I’m going to mention this blog posting here and there over the next few days — on Google+, Facebook, Twitter, and Tumblr — and where you’ve seen it mentioned, you have a chance to win an autographed copy. I’ll be sending these out to three winners from each social network where the offer’s made.

Here’s what to do to be in with a chance to win:

If you’ve seen this mentioned on Twitter: The Twitter contest’s done. Congratulations to our winners, @anagenesis4E, @cshabsin and @cclemons!

If you saw this offer mentioned on G+: The contest’s over. Congrats to our winners:  John Davis, Rowan Fairgrove, Spider Boardman.

If you came here via Facebook: Your contest’s done. Congratulations to the winners: Murray J. Anderson, Pat Steed, Joan Oakland.

If you saw this offer on Tumblr: The Tumblr contest’s over. Congratulations to the winners: kayloulee, ussrosalind, falldiewakefly.

Here’s what you’ll be getting!

Once upon a time, there lived a prince…

But not your ordinary prince with some run-of-the-mill royal destiny. When Ivan’s three sisters are married off to enchanted princes and he goes off in search of his own true love, he finds himself matched up with the sorceress and warrior maiden Marya Morevna, fairest princess in all the Russias. Shortly the two of them are navigating the emotional “white water” of one of the world’s more traumatic fairy tales — but not without help, not without high hopes of a happy ending, and not without a lot of funny stuff along the way.

This story was serialized in Eclipse’s groundbreaking fantasy comic The Dreamery in the late 1980s, and its parts have now been brought together for the first time in graphic novel format. Featuring artwork by the fabulous Sherlock, the graphic novel also contains a new final section written for this edition — “Prince Ivan and the Bachelor Parties of Doom.”

Order now and start preparing yourself to make the acquaintance of the Little Humpbacked Horse, who just can’t get enough junk food… the Raven Prince who knows the ins and outs of the world’s strangest military equipment catalog… the terrible secret in the cellar of Marya Morevna’s palace… a whole heap of the most opinionated talking animals you’ll ever meet… and an final event that starts out with “vodka and strategy games” and ends in the world’s biggest fairytale smackdown!

 

 

Click for larger: A Visit to the Boyars' Delight Pizza Pavilion

 

THE MISADVENTURES OF PRINCE IVAN
A graphic novel by Diane Duane
Art by Sherlock
104 pages, paperback, 5.5″ x 7.75″
ISBN: 978-1-936404-01-8
Price: $9.99
Published by About Comics

 

 

November 20, 2011
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HumorMediaTV in general

Horatio Caine and the Bayeux Tapestry

by Diane Duane June 24, 2011
CSI Bayeux

This came to us uncredited. Somebody please tell us who’s responsible so I can link back to them! ETA: Done. See also this reference at KnowYourMeme.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

June 24, 2011
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EuropeHobbyhorses and General RantingHome lifeHumorIrelandTravel

Some Ryanair moments

by Diane Duane June 9, 2011

A friend asked to see these videos, so I thought I’d bundle them together in a single post.

They’re comments on a certain airline which unarguably has changed the face of aviation in Europe — unquestionably for the better — but has since turned into something of a nightmare. Our own nightmare unfolded during the 2010 eruptions of Eyjafjallajökull, during which Ryanair’s complete uselessness and unhepfulness caused Peter to swear many mighty oaths regarding what he would someday do to “that man” should the airline’s MD ever venture within range.

And as regards the airline’s general fitness-for-purpose when volcanoes are not erupting… seems a lot of other people have opinions that chime with ours…

 

WARNING: especially regarding the first video, the Cheap Flights song by the wonderful musical comedy group Fascinating Aida — do NOT be drinking anything while this runs.

 

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HPyl2tOaKxM&feature=player_embedded[/youtube]

 

And now a few words on the subject from der Fuehrer.

 

 

 

 

June 9, 2011
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40 years in print, 50+ novels, assorted TV/movies, NYT Bestseller List a few times, blah blah blah. Young Wizards series, 1983-2020 and beyond; Middle Kingdoms series, 1979-2019. And now, also: Proud past Guest of Honour at Dublin2019, the World Science Fiction Convention in Dublin, Ireland.

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