Yesterday was the anniversary of Ray Bradbury's death. Over on FB I posted the photo of him holding Clovis Devilbunny, from when I was privileged enough to meet him and get my childhood paperback of Something Wicked This Way Comes signed. In the comments, someone linked to the video for the "Fuck Me, Ray Bradbury" song from ... a while ago. Didn't it win a Hugo or something?
ANYWAY, I think I'm the only person on earth who doesn't like it. I don't find it funny, and it makes me cringe. For those who do like it, rock on, that's great. But I wish people wouldn't automatically post a link at me when I mention the man I consider the patron saint for my writing. Yes, this is one area where I'm a big ol' humorless killjoy.
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Oh lord, it's mid-year review time, when I meet with all of my direct reports and talk about their reviews. There shouldn't be any surprises, because I'm dedicated to raising any concerns immediately so my folks and I can work on them together, but it's still an anxiety-inducing time.
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Despite resting and sleeping during most of my week off, I don't feel rested. Probably because I was recovering from the damn sinus infection, which means all that resting didn't actually help me catch up. Meh.
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//DED OF JEALOUSY
Oh, I hate that kind of thing too, it's so smirky and kind of degrading. It's really out of place on a memorial post, too.
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I'm so glad you got to meet him. his writing meant a lot to me growing up.
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