2014: the wrap-up

2014This will, barring something truly exceptional happening, be my last post of 2014; it is 6:58 PM as I’m typing these words and I fully expect to be asleep by 11:30.  If I’m still up at midnight, it’ll be because I can’t sleep, not because I decided to be.  I am an Old now, and we don’t have to worry ’bout no new year any more.  I suspect it’ll get here whether I’m awake to see it or not.

Most of the interwebbery folks I pay attention to are fully ready to plant a boot in 2014’s ass as it heads out the door; I can sympathize, as little that was any good on any sort of wide scale has happened this year.  There were a few bright spots (gay marriage is now legal in more places than it is illegal, for one) but not many, and the evil and carnage particularly of the last couple of months kind of overshadow it.  Yeah, gay people can get married, but it’s basically legal to kill black people in large swaths of the countryespecially if you’re a cop.  That’s… not really a fair trade at all.

That said: personally?  Particularly since May or so?  This was the best year of my life.  There’s really no reasonable competition, and in fact I’m hard pressed to name what year #2 might have been.  2008, the year I married my wife?  2011, the year my son was born?  Okay, what was the second best thing that happened in either of those years?  I have no idea.  (Maybe buying our house in 2011.  2011’s got some chops.)

In 2014, my wife and I both received promotions and substantial raises.  I won a $10,000 grant that allowed me to take the summer off from work and dedicate it to writing.  I published two books and people paid me for them.  And I had another piece of writing published by someone else.  And those last two were lifelong firsts.  That’s a remarkable year even before you get to the part where my son is finally old enough to be fun.  And having this place around has been pretty cool, too.  Good shit’s been happening in my family, too; my brother just announced his engagement, and we’re going to my cousin’s wedding this weekend– technically a 2015 achievement, but close enough.  Yeah.  It was definitely a good year for us.

And 2015?

2015’s gonna be better.

Watch me now.

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On #Facebook advertising

I haven’t gotten around to writing the “How to Sell your Book on the Internet” post– it’s coming sometime this week, and I’m hoping it’ll be useful– but I just watched this video and it’s crazily interesting.  It’s nine minutes long, so gird up your loins, because I know none of us have attention spans anymore.  It’s worth it, though:

In which the kids are fine, shut up

A note, before I start: I had to do research and learn what the hell the difference is between Holland, the Netherlands and Denmark before writing this post.  So obviously I am supposed to be writing right now.

Anyway.  This picture’s making the rounds:

tumblr_ngp1r0FJEa1qz6f9yo1_1280Here’s what you’re supposed to do: you’re supposed to look at this picture and go arr wharglebargle kids these days yarr, and be all mad.  In case you don’t recognize it, that painting on the wall back there is Rembrandt’s The Night Watch, which isn’t actually called that officially but whatever.  The idea is that these kids– who look, to my eyes, to be maybe eighth- or ninth-graders, are in the presence of Priceless! Artwork! and instead of reverently gazing upon it they are daring to look at their phones.  Horror!  Terror! Decline of society!  Wharrgarbl!  Facebook is so angry about this, guys.

tl;dr version of this post:  Oh shut up.

Longer version:  Have you ever been in an art museum?  I have. I’m terribly fond of the Art Institute of Chicago, for starters, and have been in several others.  Do you happen to know what art museums are?  They’re exhausting.  Even if you’re grown, and you’re interested in art, they’re exhausting.  It is entirely possible– I have done this!– to be a grown, educated adult who is interested in art and accidentally walk right past, oh, incredibly famous works of pointillist art that you’ve seen in a million places before and not even realize it because that is what art museums do to your brain.  I have done this!  It had to be pointed out to me that I was in the same room as that painting.  And that painting is huge!  It’s literally ten goddamn feet wide and I missed it.

So, yeah.  First thing, then: Art museums are exhausting and those seats are there for a reason.  So shut up.  They are more exhausting when you’re fourteen.

Second thing: These kids are already almost certainly European– the museum is, after all, in Amsterdam– which means, as I consult my list of stereotypes, that they’re already smarter and more educated and Worldly than American kids anyway, and using a picture of some European kids to go arr wharglebargle blarg America RUINT!!!1!11!! is an especially obnoxiously American way to look at a picture.  I guarantee a good 2/3 of the people complaining are convinced they’re looking at American kids.

Third thing: Here’s the room this painting is in at the Rijksmuseum:

Screen Shot 2014-12-31 at 7.29.53 AMYou will note that they have provided quite a lot of seating space in this room.  It’s almost as if you’re expected to want to sit down at some point.  Here’s the same room from a slightly different angle, with people in it:

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Note the old man on the right, sitting in nearly the same place the kids are and– argbjarglewharkleflarken!– checking his phone!

To continue the theme of Pictures, here’s a floor plan of the Rijksmuseum:

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You can click on this to make it larger if you want; just know that the Night Watch is in the circled part at the top– and that the entrance to the museum is at the bottom.  In other words, the painting is specifically and deliberately put in a place where you have to walk through most of the museum to get to it.  So unless you proceed directly there immediately, you will have already Seen a Lot of Art by the time you get to the Night Watch room.

Here’s the thing: I have, on numerous occasions, taken fairly large groups of 7th and 8th graders on field trips to cultural destinations.  Long field trips.   Four day field trips.  So I have a passing acquaintance with how kids behave on these types of things.  Now, it is most likely that these particular kids are Hollish teenagers on a day trip of some sort, but it’s entirely possible that they’re from somewhere else and on a longer trip– and that, in other words, they’re probably exhausted by now.  Even if this museum is ten minutes from their homes, they’re still probably tired by now.

Do you know what you do when you’re taking students to a museum?  You let them go, and you tell them “We’re meeting in XXX place at XXX time.”  You do not try and keep a big group of kids together for the entire time you’re in the museum.  It doesn’t work.  If possible, you break them into smaller groups and put each of them with a chaperone, but there’s generally nothing wrong with just letting them go.  I’ve been doing this for years, literally, and have never had my kids get into any sort of bullshit while out in public.  Sometimes they get a little loud.  That’s it.

In other words: 1) There’s nothing wrong with sitting down in a museum; that museums, in fact, provide furniture for sitting, even in rooms with priceless works of art that one is expected to gaze reverently at for some length of time that an otherwise uninvolved denizen of the interwebs might deem appropriate;  2) It’s entirely possible that they’re sitting down because this is where they’re meeting everyone; 3) It’s also entirely possible– in fact, likely– that what a bunch of them are doing is showing each other pictures that they’ve taken during the trip, because not all of the museum is going to be a no-photography zone, and 4) stop being so judgy, asshole.

Lecture ends.  I should probably do some work now.


I’ve gotten a heads-up that this post is about to get a bit more attention than usual, so forgive me for this, but: Hi!  I’m Luther Siler.  There is a lot more blog where this post came from, and you can find me on Twitter at @nfinitefreetime.  I also write books about space gnomes and voyages to Mars that people have claimed to find amusing.  You might too!  Thanks for reading!

2014: White House Year in Photos

I already Tweeted and Tumblrd (Tumblred?) one of these images, but man, the entire set is just amazing.  Check them out.

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oh my god this is REAL?

So I heard about this last night on the twitters and I thought it was a hoax.  It’s not a hoax. It’s a real thing that is real:

B6B7gHTIMAAA6JmSo, long story short: the extruder for some new Play-Doh toy that a bunch of people got for their kids for Christmas looks exactly like a goddamned dildo.  You have got to go to the Facebook page and go there right now the carnage going on in the comments is the Internet distilled into its purest form and is completely hilarious on every imaginable level.

Thank me later.  Click the link now.

In which I eat lunch and make it a post again

d023d_o-YUMBO-570-570x330I swear, every time I eat at Burger King, it turns into a post.  Every single time.

Two things, before I start: first, I used to work at Burger King.  It was, in fact, my first job.  Now, when you work at Burger King, particularly if you work at the Burger King I worked at, which had an unofficial policy that you had to be a pretty girl in order to work a register, you’re going to spend a lot of time behind the grill.  What this means is that your entire life smells like grilled meat after a while.  It also means that the people who work back there will do just about anything on their lunch breaks to avoid eating burgers.  So I’ve been perfectly aware that the ham and cheddar (American?  Probably American, actually*) sandwich was a secret menu item of Burger King’s since forever, even if I don’t ever order it.  That said, when they brought back the “Yumbo,” making it official, I thought to myself damn, I used to eat a lot of those back in high school, and cravings took over, they way they do.  Here’s the second thing: If you happen to follow my Twitter feed you may remember my asshole cat preventing me from eating them last night; he was unable to do so today.

Anyway.  I begin every reference to Burger King by pointing out that I don’t eat there often; I have in fact not eaten Burger King since the last time I posted about it.  Maybe once, but not more than that.  The drive-thru experience is just too goddamn creepy even before you get to me not actually liking their food very much.  So as I’m pulling up to the drive I’m sorta mentally preparing myself to be aggravated for the next couple of minutes.  Burger King is all about SERVICE!!!!!!! to a degree that is actually incredibly off-putting, and I can’t believe that their corporate douchebags haven’t figured it out yet.

So you can imagine that I was thrown for a loop when my interaction with the cashier through the speaker begins with her shouting “Whatchu hungry fo’?” into her microphone.    There’s a moment of sorta shocked silence where I’m struggling to keep myself from laughing, and a second or so later, she just says “Hi!”, and I swear I can detect a note of embarrassment at the other end of the conversation.  I don’t think she meant for me to hear the first bit; call it a hunch.

Anyway, here we reach the second problem with ordering food from Burger King today: I am a grown-ass man, and I don’t really want to say “Yumbo” to anyone.  There is a delicious menu item at Denny’s that is called “Moons Over My Hammy,” and to this day I have eaten it several times and have never once said it out loud.  I point.

“I’d like two of the ham and cheese sandwiches,” I say, and pause for a second.  “The Yumbo?” she confirms.  “Yes,” I say, and finish my order.  She proceeds to tell me no less than three times in the next thirty seconds that I’ve made a “good choice” with my lunch today, which appears to be a new, unnecessary wrinkle that the overlords have added to the script.

Hey!  Burger King!  I don’t need your cashiers to validate my lunch choices.  I need them to record my order accurately, bring it to me, and charge me the proper amount and give me the proper change.  That’s it.  I don’t give a damn what they think about what I ordered, and furthermore it bugs me that you feel the need to make them reassure me about them.  This is bullshit.

She asks my name.  I lie.  We’ve already had this conversation.

I pay the lady at the first window without incident, other than her being super happy that I report that I am well when she asks me how my day is.  The woman at the second window manages to call me “Luther” four goddamn times in the process of giving me my food.  Fucking stop it!  It’s not folksy or friendly or whatever the fuck you think it is!  No one fucking talks like this.  It’s fucking weird and you need to stop.

And then I get a look at my receipt, and this is the point where this moves from me having idiosyncrasies to this shit being actively offensive.  Look at this:

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Motherfuckers.

At this point you have crossed a fucking line.  “Ultimate service” is getting killed for someone.  That phrase has a very fucking real and very fucking specific meaning in American culture.  Putting yourself between someone else and a bullet is “ultimate service.”  Not handing me a fucking bag of french fries.  I don’t want your “service.”  I want my fucking food.

I am at the point now where I cannot wait for this corporation to die.  I seriously can’t.  I’ve scratched my ham sandwich itch; I’m done.  Burger King has the ugliest corporate culture of any corporate entity I ever have to deal with– hell, Wal-Mart doesn’t offend me as regularly and specifically as they do– and I have to be done with this.

(How were the sandwiches?  Delicious, obviously; it’s ham, cheese, lettuce and mayonnaise on a toasted bun.  Kinda hard to fuck up.  But, still, fuck this; I’m not eating at BK again and I look forward to dancing on their ashes.  It can’t be that much longer.)

* This alerts me to the fact that I don’t actually have the slightest idea what the difference between “American” and “Cheddar” cheese is.  They are, to me, effectively interchangeable, but I doubt that’s actually true.

Speaking of book sales…

…yes, I know it was a few days ago, god, you guys have the attention spans of goldfish.  Anyway.  Yeah.  You remember the book sales post.  I have an addendum.  One thing that I did not discuss is that sales in the last couple of weeks have been… well, abysmal, at least at Amazon.  (Benevolence Archives continues to do well at Smashwords, and I want that one free anyway, so it not selling at Amazon doesn’t bother me.)  Here’s the graph:

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Nothing at all for two solid weeks.  Now, those two solid weeks were right around Christmas, and people tend to buy stuff for other people, not for themselves, around Christmastime, and ebooks are a shitty present, so I can come up with some reasons why sales might nosedive without trying too hard.  But this is still kinda ugly, and again: sales of Skylights have been virtually nonexistent on other platforms.  The sales I’ve had at Smashwords were from a direct experiment and haven’t replicated themselves.  And I’ve tried a few gentle reminders here and some more pointed Tweets at various times of the day and with varying levels of humor and seriousness, and… well, you see the results.

So: an adjustment.  As of right now, assuming that they believe me when I say I’ve pulled the book from sale at other outlets (I assume it will take a day or two for them to actually disappear,) Skylights is exclusive to Amazon.com and enrolled in the KDP Select program for the next 90 days.  The Benevolence Archives started in KDP, and I pulled it eventually, and I’ve been pretty happy with how the book has done on its own.  I’ve got several months of data of how Skylights did with my own marketing efforts, and now it’s time to see if three months of Amazon supposedly pushing it a little bit will either equal or exceed my own efforts.  The way I see it, I’ve plucked all the low-hanging fruit at this point, so if Amazon gets comparable numbers to how it did without KDP, I’ll keep it there.  (EDIT: This is a better comparison than I thought, as– purely by accident– the book has been on the market for exactly 90 days.  I got the first 90, they get the next 90.  To arms!)

I love experimentation, don’t you?

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2014 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The Louvre Museum has 8.5 million visitors per year. This blog was viewed about 96,000 times in 2014. If it were an exhibit at the Louvre Museum, it would take about 4 days for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.