Worlds of WillyDJ

 Please, stop believing the narrator Yes, yes I know. I already posted something today. That's because I have goldfish brain and had left the draft about fictional fascism sitting in limbo for a while. Hears today's rant. I noticed it as I completed the first arc for what began as Sparticus(inspace!) and is increasingly looking like Macbeth, also in space! Glynn and Artura are getting more like Mr and Mrs Darth Vader, sorry Lord and Lady Macbeth with each page. Which is okay, that Will said something about imitation after all. Anyways, back to what set this off. Our protagonists believe different things as a result of having different upbringings and whatnot. Their pairing is, well a mismatch. Anyways both Glynn and Artura believe in a version of history about what happened during Contact.  Glynn's one is purposefully wrong, it's obviously close to the party line and well, should be suspect on that alone. It's like reading some mid-century account of the colonisatio...

 Fascists don't get things done. A disturbing trend I see in popular culture is this weird notion of Democracy equals weak and Autocracies, particularly Fascist ones, are strong. This is quite a worrying thing for a member of a free society because I happen to like all these weak, pathetic freedoms. The ability to say what I want, believe what I want, love who I want all the while having some power to decide who calls the shots is dear to me. Also, autocracies commit all sorts of blunders because no one is able to tell them differently due to being in a grave or gulag. The rejection of Einstien's understanding of the atom being 'Jewish science' on the part of the Nazis and the Soviet's embracing of Lamarck over Darwin because it matched their ideology better is well known. So why is this less of a feature in our fictional societies? Ofttimes they stride the world like the colossi the propaganda of their real-world counterparts depicted them as doing. We see nothing ...

 Old weird stuff  I've been writing bits and bobs since ever. Here's an earlier thing. The working title was The Valley Girl. It was a pleasant evening. The air was warm and birds twittered and chirped at one another as Andrew waited for the bus. Checking his watch he noted it was another twenty minutes before it was due. So he decided to walk home. Had he known what was to transpire he would have wisely chosen to damn well wait like a good patient commuter. Andrew was not feeling patient and didn't like the bus trip home. He felt the driver contrived to hit every bump and pothole. He also liked walking and was in no hurry to get home.   Andrew walked to the corner store and bought a coke. He then began my walk home, reading his book and drinking the coke. He decided he would cross the common, walk down the road, cut through St Andrews and stop off at The Exminster for dinner before getting home for bed. A f...