Dispensing with the pleasantries:
:: When I was in the 5th grade, I got my very first handbag.
:: Aging and retirement hardly resemble the “golden years” one often sees and hears.
:: The reason I wouldn’t call it [Firefly] the best science fiction show is because it isn’t science fiction. It’s space opera. (BZZZT! Space opera is a subgenre of science fiction, not something separate entirely.)
:: They’ve got our future, damn it.
It’s not the shiny future of jet packs and food pills — oh no, that’s not what Japan is about. Nevertheless, they’ve got it and they’re living in it, damn them. They’ve got express trains that run on time and accelerate so fast they push you back into your seat like an airliner on take-off. They’ve got skyscrapers with running lights, looming out of the sodium-lit evening haze — a skyline just like the famous nighttime scene from Blade Runner except for the shortage of giant pyramids (and they’re building one of those out in Tokyo bay). And they shave their cats.
:: I turned fifty a couple of months ago, and this is my first letter to Santa since I was five, so I have a long list: (Lots of snark here, and salty language. Also, it’s a weird hybrid of blog and message board.)
OK, that seems like a good place to stop. Tune in next week!