Category: Uncategorized

The intrinsic unreliability of science

This 19x rise in retractions should suffice to put the lie to the ridiculous idea that published scientific papers are the best means of determining truth, let alone the only one:

In the first decade of the 21st century, retractions of papers published by medical journals went up 19 fold, although the number of manuscripts being published only increased 44 percent. The reasons behind this surge in evidence of scientific falsification were examined in a recent editorial in the International Journal of Radiation Oncology • Biology • Physics (the Red Journal), published in October 2013.

“One of the greatest, and sadly all too common, challenges facing a contemporary medical journal editor is the adjudication of ethical integrity issues,” Editor-in-Chief Anthony L. Zietman wrote. “I had originally presumed that this would be just an occasional role, but it transpires that these problems are quite widespread, ranging from unconscious and unwitting naivete to the conscious and willful betrayal of scientific trust.”

Studies suggest that a majority of papers are retracted due to deliberate falsification by researchers, rather than simple mistakes.

Science fetishists have long ignored the fundamental flaw in the system of modern science; it is only as reliable as the moral character of the scientists involved permits. Of course, this could be seen as a positive; more science fiction is being published than ever before!

Thoughts on the Hugo nomination

  1. SF fandom has no grasp of how small it is. The repeated accusations of cheating by purchasing multiple memberships and ballot-stuffing demonstrate that the accusers haven’t even bothered to look at the Feedburner icon or click on the Sitemeter icon here. Last year it took only 38 votes to make it onto the Best Novelette ballot; the top vote-getting nominee had all of 89 votes. Meanwhile, the vast quantity of upset and offended goodthinkers visiting here via do-not-link to gawk at the evidence of my being “the antithesis of all that is good and decent” led to a gargantuan 6.9 percent increase in traffic here, which is to say, 758 additional Sitemeter visits out of nearly 12,000.
  2. It’s a lot harder to win a Hugo than to get nominated. To win, one needs about 400 votes under normal circumstances. But since the votes are ranked in order of preference and there is an active campaign to vote No Award above “Opera Vita Aeterna”, I’d need more than that. Translation: thanks very much for all the expressions of support, but don’t buy a membership to vote for me unless you’re also planning to get involved on the nomination end next year. If you want to express your support, I’d much rather you spend that money on Castalia House books by John, Tom, and Rolf. For $40 you can buy most of our English catalog… some of it directly from the store we are opening later today.
  3. Win or lose the awards, Sad Puppies has served its purpose. The purpose of Sad Puppies, as Larry repeatedly explained, was three-fold. First, to test if the award process was fraudulent or not. To the credit of the LonCon people, we have learned it was not. Second, to prove that the awards are a mere popularity contest, contra the insistence of those who have repeatedly asserted they are evidence of literary quality and the intrinsic superiority of the nominated works. We have shown that it is. And third, to prove that the SF/F Right is more popular in the genre than the gatekeepers have insisted. We have demonstrated that to be the case.
  4. People hate me a lot more than they hate Larry Correia. This is very troubling to the International Lord of Hate. I suspected as much, but I thought the ratio would be more like 65/35 than 90/10. That being said, I have little doubt that Larry will manage to level out that ratio somewhat by this time next year.
  5. SF progressives believe they are qualified to police race and ethnicity. Many of them can’t seem to wrap their heads around the fact that I am a Person of Color by every definition. It’s amusing that they think my labeling a lying African-American woman a “half-savage” proves my racism, but them calling a pair of Hispanic men all sorts of names, including “savage” and “uncivilized”, somehow proves they are not racist. 
  6. If they are unhappy now, they are really going to be unhappy in the future. I paid no attention to the nominations last year. The Dread Ilk barely paid any attention to the nominations this year. As we’ve previously seen to be the case, the progressives really don’t understand that their frantic attempts to belittle and disqualify us only makes us stronger, harder, and more numerous.
  7. Many Hugo voters have declared they will not read the novelette and it
    is already apparent that some of those who read “Opera Vita Aeterna”
    will not do so honestly. For example, one “reviewer” wrote: “I skip a little tedious adolescent Theology talk in Act Two, Plus a
    Silly Epilogue that I think VD thinks is Dramatic…. His point (I think) is that God Is Real. And So R Demons.
    The plot is pointless. The writing is dull and bad.”      But anyone
    who has read the story knows that the plot is far from pointless. And
    anyone who is sufficiently educated will recognize that the theology is
    not “adolescent”, it is paraphrased Thomas Aquinas from the Summa Theologica.
  8. I appreciate the nomination. It’s nice to receive the recognition and it is certainly useful in much the same way as my Mensa membership. But, having recently edited two books by a much superior writer who should, by any reasonable standard, already have several Hugo wins under his belt, it’s hard to view the process as anything but seriously flawed.
  9. The Wheel of Time is dreadful. It has always been dreadful, in sum and in part. I find it mildly amazing that people are more offended about my novelette being nominated than that gigantic insult to literature.
  10. The title of the novelette is no more Latin than “Vox Popoli”. It’s a blend of Italian and Latin.
  11. A man is defined by his enemies as well as by his friends. I feel extraordinarily fortunate indeed to have had this opportunity to observe the quality of both. It is not at all a bad thing to be personally disliked and viewed as “a contemptible piece of shit” by the likes of Mr. Scalzi and company. It is the approval of the wormtongues that a man should fear, not their hatred.

Opera Vita Aeterna

I’ve been informed that it is customary to make Hugo-nominated works freely available to the public during the voting stage, so here is “OPERA VITA AETERNA”, a nominee for the 2014 Hugo Award for Best Novelette. Click on the title link or on the cover image to download the free epub. If you prefer Kindle format, there is also a mobi version available for download.

There has been a fair amount of discussion of the novelette online, almost entirely by people who not only have not read it, but know absolutely nothing about it. I would suggest that anyone who is genuinely interested in excellence in SF/F literature simply read the work and judge it on its merits. And for those who are more interested in thought-policing the genre, they can simply do as some have suggested, “rank a nominated work below “No Award””, and thereby provide us with an accurate measure of the degree to which SF/F fandom is influenced by the politically correct Left.

From the Amazon reviews of THE LAST WITCHKING:

  • The masterpiece of the trio, though, is Opera Vita Aeterna. At its core
    is the dialogue between an aging monk and a long-lived elven sorcerer in
    unwitting search of his own salvation. Day again employs both allegory
    and tremendous subtlety as the more experienced and intelligent elf is
    perplexed and impressed by the power of eternal truth. Aeterna is both
    clever and touching and might be the best story Day has produced to
    date. 
  • Opera Vita Aeterna: This is a brilliant, five-star story, and the
    best in the book, in my opinion. For me to rate a story as brilliant,
    it must be beautifully written, have complex characters, and leave me
    with a note of lingering intangibility. The elf Bessarias is on a quest
    for God, whom he doesn’t necessarily find. Through his searching,
    though, he leaves an important legacy behind him. There lies the
    intangibility–no personal, cathartic moment, but, instead, a glimpse of
    something far greater.
  • Opera Vita Aeterna is a deeply catholic work of the height of beauty,
    the power of events long after the events are forgotten, and the
    complexity and density of the Christian model of hope. Its most elegant
    turn is its ability to transform a deft and intriguing story about a
    strange sorcerer’s encounter with a rural cloister into a meditation on
    the nature of eternity. It is rare to describe a story as both
    restrained and florid, but its details are so rich and believable and
    its voice is so even. Read it, then read it again after reading Summa
    Elvetica.
  • All too brief, it balances the darkness of this book’s title story with a
    reminder that though darkness may engulf the world and seem to triumph,
    within the light there is a power that endures, which darkness cannot
    comprehend. All together, The Last Witchking is a significant offering by Vox, one I am still digesting and will read again.

The testimony of John C. Wright

It has been one of the great privileges of my life to make the professional acquaintance of John C. Wright, whom I firmly believe to be the greatest living SF writer. But Mr. Wright is more more than a mere teller of tales like AWAKE IN THE NIGHT LAND and THE GOLDEN AGE, he is also a formidable fidei defensor. Six years ago today, he was baptized into the Church in the name of Jesus Christ. This is his testimony, as it was recounted on Free Republic and then Strange Notions. It seems appropriate to post it here today.

My conversion was in two parts: a natural part and a supernatural part. Here is the natural part: first, over a period of two years my hatred toward Christianity eroded due to my philosophical inquiries.

Rest assured, I take the logical process of philosophy very seriously, and I am impatient with anyone who is not a rigorous and trained thinker. Reason is the tool men use to determine if their statements about reality are valid: there is no other. Those who do not or cannot reason are little better than slaves, because their lives are controlled by the ideas of other men, ideas they have not examined.

To my surprise and alarm, I found that, step by step, logic drove me to conclusions no modern philosophy shared, but only this ancient and (as I saw it then) corrupt and superstitious foolery called the Church. Each time I followed the argument fearlessly where it lead, it kept leading me, one remorseless rational step at a time, to a position the Church had been maintaining for more than a thousand years. That haunted me.

Second, I began to notice how shallow, either simply optimistic or simply pessimistic, other philosophies and views of life were.

The public conduct of my fellow atheists was so lacking in sobriety and gravity that I began to wonder why, if we atheists had a hammerlock on truth, so much of what we said was pointless or naive. I remember listening to a fellow atheist telling me how wonderful the world would be once religion was swept into the dustbin of history, and I realized the chap knew nothing about history. If atheism solved all human woe, then the Soviet Union would have been an empire of joy and dancing bunnies, instead of the land of corpses.

I would listen to my fellow atheists, and they would sound as innocent of any notion of what real human life was like as the Man from Mars who has never met human beings or even heard clear rumors of them. Then I would read something written by Christian men of letters, Tolkien, Lewis, or G.K. Chesterton, and see a solid understanding of the joys and woes of human life. They were mature men.

I would look at the rigorous logic of St. Thomas Aquinas, the complexity and thoroughness of his reasoning, and compare that to the scattered and mentally incoherent sentimentality of some poseur like Nietzsche or Sartre. I can tell the difference between a rigorous argument and shrill psychological flatulence. I can see the difference between a dwarf and a giant.
My wife is a Christian and is extraordinary patient, logical, and philosophical. For years I would challenge and condemn her beliefs, battering the structure of her conclusions with every argument, analogy, and evidence I could bring to bear. I am a very argumentative man, and I am as fell and subtle as a serpent in debate. All my arts failed against her. At last I was forced to conclude that, like non-Euclidian geometry, her world-view logically followed from its axioms (although the axioms were radically mystical, and I rejected them with contempt). Her persistence compared favorably to the behavior of my fellow atheists, most of whom cannot utter any argument more mentally alert than a silly ad Hominem attack. Once again, I saw that I was confronting a mature and serious world-view, not merely a tissue of fables and superstitions.
Third, a friend of mine asked me what evidence, if any, would be sufficient to convince me that the supernatural existed. This question stumped me. My philosophy at the time excluded the contemplation of the supernatural axiomatically: by definition (my definition) even the word “super-natural” was a contradiction in terms. Logic then said that, if my conclusions were definitional, they were circular. I was assuming the conclusion of the subject matter in dispute.

Now, my philosophy at the time was as rigorous and exact as 35 years of study could make it (I started philosophy when I was seven). This meant there was no point for reasonable doubt in the foundational structure of my axioms, definitions, and common notions. This meant that, logically, even if God existed, and manifested Himself to me, my philosophy would force me to reject the evidence of my senses, and dismiss any manifestations as a coincidence, hallucination, or dream. Under this hypothetical, my philosophy would force me to an exactly wrong conclusion due to structural errors of assumption.

A philosopher (and I mean a serious and manly philosopher, not a sophomoric boy) does not use philosophy to flinch away from truth or hide from it. A philosophy composed of structural false-to-facts assumptions is insupportable.

A philosopher goes where the truth leads, and has no patience with mere emotion.

But it was impossible, logically impossible, that I should ever believe in such nonsense as to believe in the supernatural. It would be a miracle to get me to believe in miracles.

So I prayed. “Dear God, I know (because I can prove it with the certainty that a geometer can prove opposite angles are equal) that you do not exist. Nonetheless, as a scholar, I am forced to entertain the hypothetical possibility that I am mistaken. So just in case I am mistaken, please reveal yourself to me in some fashion that will prove your case. If you do not answer, I can safely assume that either you do not care whether I believe in you, or that you have no power to produce evidence to persuade me. The former argues you not beneficent, the latter not omnipotent: in either case unworthy of worship. If you do not exist, this prayer is merely words in the air, and I lose nothing but a bit of my dignity. Thanking you in advance for your kind cooperation in this matter, John Wright.”

I had a heart attack two days later. God obviously has a sense of humor as well as a sense of timing.

Now for the supernatural part.

My wife called someone from her Church, which is a denomination that practices healing through prayer. My wife read a passage from their writings, and the pain vanished. If this was a coincidence, then, by God, I could use more coincidences like that in my life.

Feeling fit, I nonetheless went to the hospital, so find out what had happened to me. The diagnosis was grave, and a quintuple bypass heart surgery was ordered. So I was in the hospital for a few days.

Those were the happiest days of my life. A sense of peace and confidence, a peace that passes all understanding, like a field of energy entered my body. I grew aware of a spiritual dimension of reality of which I had hitherto been unaware. It was like a man born blind suddenly receiving sight.

The Truth to which my lifetime as a philosopher had been devoted turned out to be a living thing. It turned and looked at me. Something from beyond the reach of time and space, more fundamental than reality, reached across the universe and broke into my soul and changed me. This was not a case of defense and prosecution laying out evidence for my reason to pick through: I was altered down to the root of my being.

It was like falling in love. If you have not been in love, I cannot explain it. If you have, you will raise a glass with me in toast.

Naturally, I was overjoyed. First, I discovered that the death sentence under which all life suffers no longer applied to me. The governor, so to speak, had phoned. Second, imagine how puffed up with pride you’d be to find out you were the son of Caesar, and all the empire would be yours. How much more, then, to find out you were the child of God?

I was also able to perform, for the first time in my life, the act which I had studied philosophy all my life to perform, which is, to put aside all fear of death. The Roman Stoics, whom I so admire, speak volumes about this philosophical fortitude. But their lessons could not teach me this virtue. The blessing of the Holy Spirit could and did impart it to me, as a gift. So the thing I’ve been seeking my whole life was now mine.

Then, just to make sure I was flooded with evidence, I received three visions like Scrooge being visited by three ghosts. I was not drugged or semiconscious, I was perfectly alert and in my right wits.

It was not a dream. I have had dreams every night of my life. I know what a dream is. It was not a hallucination. I know someone who suffers from hallucinations, and I know the signs. Those signs were not present here.

Then, just to make even more sure that I was flooded with overwhelming evidence, I had a religious experience. This is separate from the visions, and took place several days after my release from the hospital, when my health was moderately well. I was not taking any pain-killers, by the way, because I found that prayer could banish pain in moments.

During this experience, I became aware of the origin of all thought, the underlying oneness of the universe, the nature of time: the paradox of determinism and free will was resolved for me. I saw and experienced part of the workings of a mind infinitely superior to mine, a mind able to count every atom in the universe, filled with paternal love and jovial good humor. The cosmos created by the thought of this mind was as intricate as a symphony, with themes and reflections repeating themselves forward and backward through time: prophecy is the awareness that a current theme is the foreshadowing of the same theme destined to emerge with greater clarity later. A prophet is one who is in tune, so to speak, with the music of the cosmos.

The illusionary nature of pain, and the logical impossibility of death, were part of the things I was shown.

Now, as far as these experiences go, they are not unique. They are not even unusual. More people have had religious experiences than have seen the far side of the moon. Dogmas disagree, but mystics are strangely (I am tempted to say mystically) in agreement.

The things I was shown have echoes both in pagan and Christian tradition, both Eastern and Western (although, with apologies to my pagan friends, I see that Christianity is the clearest expression of these themes, and also has a logical and ethical character other religions expressions lack).

Further, the world view implied by taking this vision seriously (1) gives supernatural sanction to conclusions only painfully reached by logic (2) supports and justifies a mature rather than simplistic world-view (3) fits in with the majority traditions not merely of the West, but also, in a limited way, with the East.

As a side issue, the solution of various philosophical conundrums, like the problem of the one and the many, mind-body duality, determinism and indeterminism, and so on, is an added benefit. If you are familiar with such things, I follow the panentheist idealism of Bishop Berkeley; and, no, Mr. Johnson does not refute him merely by kicking a stone.

From that time to this, I have had prayers answered and seen miracles: each individually could be explained away as a coincidence by a skeptic, but not taken as a whole. From that time to this, I continue to be aware of the Holy Spirit within me, like feeling a heartbeat. It is a primary impression coming not through the medium of the senses: an intuitive axiom, like the knowledge of one’s own self-being.

This, then, is the final answer to your question: it would not be rational for me to doubt something of which I am aware on a primary and fundamental level.

Occam’s razor cuts out hallucination or dream as a likely explanation for my experiences. In order to fit these experiences into an atheist framework, I would have to resort to endless ad hoc explanations: this lacks the elegance of geometers and parsimony of philosophers.

I would also have to assume all the great thinkers of history were fools. While I was perfectly content to support this belief back in my atheist days, this is a flattering conceit difficult to maintain seriously.

On a pragmatic level, I am somewhat more useful to my fellow man than before, and certainly more charitable. If it is a daydream, why wake me up? My neighbors will not thank you if I stop believing in the mystical brotherhood of man.

Besides, the atheist non-god is not going to send me to non-hell for my lapse of non-faith if it should turn out that I am mistaken.

Truth and the Resurrection

There are those who say that the Resurrection of Jesus Christ of Nazareth is merely a story. They will claim, falsely, that the Risen Lord is derived from an agricultural myth. They will assert, wrongly, that “Easter is originally the celebration of Ishtar, the Assyrian and Babylonian goddess of fertility and sex.” They will declare, contra the historical evidence, that Jesus Christ never lived or was crucified on a cross by the Roman authorities.

It is strange, is it not, that they should tell so many palpable lies in the service of that which they say to be truth?

The Apostle Paul once said that if the story of the Crucifixion and Resurrection of Jesus Christ is not true, then we Christians are the saddest and most pathetic of all men. Everything we do, everything we believe, everything for which we hope and strive, is a lie.

It is strange, is it not, that so many observable and long-lived truths should stand so firmly on such a flimsy foundation of falsehood?

From Plato to Zelazny, men of letters have written of the purer things, that in their perfection spawn lesser shadows and imitations that reflect but an aspect of the true essence. From where does truth come, if not the Truth? And did Jesus not say that he was the Way, the Truth, and the Life?

Those who are Aristotelian devotees of reality stand by the Lesser Truth that A is A, and that A is never Not-A. But the Lesser Truth descends from, and depends upon, the Greater Truth, which is this:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

Yesterday the light shone in the darkness. Today the light shines in the darkness. Tomorrow the light will shine in the darkness. And the darkness will never, ever, overcome it.

It is not a story, it is The Story, it is the oldest story, it is the true story from which all other stories flow. Light versus dark. And despite the darkness that surrounds us, that pervades us, that haunts us, the light of all mankind is winning.

That is why, all around the world this morning, there are millions of men and women who will greet each other with three simple words of hope and truth and triumph.

Christ is risen!

Hugo Awards: Best Novelette

Nominations for the 2014 Hugo Awards:

Best Novelette:

“Opera Vita Aeterna” by Vox Day
“The Exchange Officers” by Brad Torgersen
“The Lady Astronaut of Mars” by Mary Robinette Kowal
“The Truth of Fact, the Truth of Feeling” by Ted Chiang
“The Waiting Stars” by Aliette de Bodard

Congratulations to Larry Correia, who was nominated for Warbound, and to Brad Torgersen, who was not only nominated for “The Exchange Officers”, but also for “The Chaplain’s Legacy”. And, of course, to Toni Weisskopf.

The end of debate

Forget Aristotle’s distinction between dialectic and rhetoric. The devolution of formal debate means that it doesn’t even rise to the level of rhetoric any longer.

It used to be that if you went to a college-level debate tournament, the students you’d see would be bookish future lawyers from elite universities, most of them white. In matching navy blazers, they’d recite academic arguments for and against various government policies. It was tame, predictable, and, frankly, boring.

No more.

These days, an increasingly diverse group of participants has transformed debate competitions, mounting challenges to traditional form and content by incorporating personal experience, performance, and radical politics. These “alternative-style” debaters have achieved success, too, taking top honors at national collegiate tournaments over the past few years.

But this transformation has also sparked a difficult, often painful controversy for a community that prides itself on handling volatile topics. 

On March 24, 2014 at the Cross Examination Debate Association (CEDA) Championships at Indiana University, two Towson University students, Ameena Ruffin and Korey Johnson, became the first African-American women to win a national college debate tournament, for which the resolution asked whether the U.S. president’s war powers should be restricted. Rather than address the resolution straight on, Ruffin and Johnson, along with other teams of African-Americans, attacked its premise. The more pressing issue, they argued, is how the U.S. government is at war with poor black communities.

In the final round, Ruffin and Johnson squared off against Rashid Campbell and George Lee from the University of Oklahoma, two highly accomplished African-American debaters with distinctive dreadlocks and dashikis. Over four hours, the two teams engaged in a heated discussion of concepts like “nigga authenticity” and performed hip-hop and spoken-word poetry in the traditional timed format. At one point during Lee’s rebuttal, the clock ran out but he refused to yield the floor. “Fuck the time!” he yelled. His partner Campbell, who won the top speaker award at the National Debate Tournament two weeks later, had been unfairly targeted by the police at the debate venue just days before, and cited this personal trauma as evidence for his case against the government’s treatment of poor African-Americans.

Further evidence in support of my time-to-civilization hypothesis. At this point, the debate competitions may as well bring in gorillas from the zoo and distribute the “debate” awards on the basis of which primate was able to throw the most fecal matter. That “alternative-style” of debate is no less dialectically legitimate than hip-hop, spoken-word poetry, and appeals to “nigga authenticity”.

If I were a college student these days, I would show up for a debate wearing a dress and smeared red lipstick, and no matter what the resolution was, start rapping very passionately about how the more pressing issue was how the U.S. government refused to let me marry a silverback gorilla. Then I’d turn it over to my partner, Baraka from the National Zoo, who would take a massive dump on the stage before chucking large handfuls of it at the other competitors, hooting and howling all the while.

If logic is white privilege, so too is civilization. I suppose we can look forward to this alternative style of  debate percolating into the legal system:

“Y’ownah, I object that my client ain’t guilty and shit!”

“You can’t object to that.”

“Shut yo mouth, you ain’t no AUTHENTICATED nigga. Uncah Tom!”

“Excuse me?”

“FREE MAH PEOPLE! NO JUSTISS NO PEACE!”

From sign language to the foundation of science fiction to formal debate, it’s all inexplicable magic to the half-savages. They can see the forms, they can even mimic them to a certain extent, but they simply do not understand the core functions and rationales underlying the observable actions. And they don’t have any chance whatsoever of sustaining a modern technological society. None.

This may be distasteful news to you. But no matter what they say, A is A. A will ALWAYS be A. A is NEVER Not-A. It never will be.

Why the minimum wage should be raised

Zerohedge and other economic globalists don’t understand the real benefit of minimum-wage laws:

Most of our readers probably know what we think of minimum wages, but let us briefly recapitulate: there is neither a sensible economic, nor a sensible ethical argument supporting the idea.

Let us look at the economic side of things first: for one thing, the law of supply and demand is not magically suspended when it comes to the price of labor. Price it too high, and not the entire supply will be taken up. Rising unemployment inevitably results.

However, there is also a different way of formulating the argument: the price of labor must not exceed what the market can bear. In order to understand what this actually means, imagine just for the sake of argument a world without money. Such a world is not realistic of course, as without money prices the modern economy could not exist. However, what we want to get at is this: workers can ultimately only be paid with what is actually produced.

As Mises has pointed out, most so-called pro-labor legislation was only introduced after enough capital per worker was invested to make the payment of higher wages possible – usually, the market had already adjusted wages accordingly.

However, unskilled labor increasingly gets priced out of the market anyway, which is where the ethical argument comes in. If a worker cannot produce more than X amount of  goods or services, it is not possible to pay him X+Y for his work. Under minimum wage legislation he is condemned to remain unemployed, even if he is willing to work for less.

In Switzerland, the unions have recently managed to get the demand for minimum wage legislation on one of the quarterly referendums in the country.

The purpose of the minimum-wage laws have nothing to do with socialism and everything to do with nationalism. This should be obvious by the at-first-glance outlandish proposal to raise the Swiss minimum wage to $25 per hour. But once you understand that Switzerland has learned from the example of the USA and the EU states and is battling to avoid being overrun by cheap-labor immigrants from Africa and Eastern Europe, and the brilliance of the political tactic becomes apparent.

The entire justification for importing tens of millions of Mexicans is the reduction of labor costs, thereby resulting in tremendous damage to the social fabric, the destruction of the middle class, and a permanent change in the political system. All of this can be avoided by raising the minimum wage to a level that ruins the value proposition of the immigrant worker to the large corporations.

As a general rule, the Swiss are among the sanest of nations. If you are asking if they have gone insane, that is a good reason to assume you are missing something. Americans who are interested in salvaging any vestige of traditional America should push hard for raising the minimum wage to at least $20 per hour.

Pro-slavery Republicans

As if the student loan scandal was not bad enough:

U.S. Republican Senator Marco Rubio, a possible 2016 White House contender, unveiled legislation on Wednesday to broaden the use of financial vehicles known as “income share agreements” that students can use to fund their higher education costs. Under the agreements, which are marketed as an alternative to traditional student loans, private investors or organizations provide students with financing for their education costs in exchange for a percentage of their future earnings.

Any Republican who dreams about a Rubio presidency is a fool. Rubio may actually be a worse candidate than John McCain was. This is nothing more than permitting young people to sell themselves into indentured servitude in exchange for a college degree.

While he’s at it, why not let men buy a percentage of a woman’s future sexual services in return for financing her education costs? If we’re going to let students peddle their futures, the least we can do is permit them to sell their bodies as well.

I wouldn’t have a problem with this if we lived in a genuine libertarian society. But in a bankster-ruled world where student loans cannot be discharged through bankruptcy, it is an EXCEPTIONALLY bad idea.

Lions Den: Witchfinder

The Bandit reviews Sarah Hoyt’s WITCHFINDER for the Lion’s Den. And speaking of book reviews, Toni Mascaro has activated the Castalia House blog with a review of The Lost Fleet series by Jack Campbell.

Like the title character, I didn’t quite realize what I had first stumbled into when I offered to review WITCHFINDER, written by Sarah A. Hoyt. The blurb gave me the impression of multiverse derring-do — sort of a magical fantasy version of Star Gate. Although I’ve enjoyed a rant or seven on her blog, I had yet to read any of Sarah Hoyt’s published writing, so I thought I’d take the opportunity to introduce myself to her work. It was only afterward that I learned two additional facts:  (1) it had been written to appeal to romance readers, and (2) the book originated as a semi-serious chapter-a-week project on the author’s blog.

Now, being a horridly privileged cismale, I am not sure I am qualified to judge a romance’s quality. The elements that I’ve come to associate with fantasy romance are definitely all there:  ongoing “tension” in the form of repeatedly noting attraction but ignoring it for the nonce, sexually aberrant secondary characters, wereseals (in effect), inter-species love, and a proliferation of the subsequent half-breed spawn. I cannot tell you how effectively these might have been wielded in order to turn on the intended audience, but I can say that, surprisingly, I wasn’t turned off. I suppose I should clarify that there’s no steamy sex scenes, nor is any of this treated in a way I’d be uncomfortable to allowing my own young adult to read it. (Caveat: there’s a lot of buggery afoot.)

Prose (4/10): Here the novel suffers because of its origin. Written as a weekly blog post, the standard of writing is about as one would expect for a blog post. Presumably written with a quick once-over before hitting “submit,” some sentences end up convoluted and confusing not for any imitation of the stilted regency style (the style itself is very modern in its simplicity) but for the need of some additional drafting. The effect of its origin also goes beyond the occasional typos and broken sentences that have slipped through to jar the reader:  the overall pacing and structure also stutters a bit. This means some chapters feel just a bit too rushed, and one or two were clearly a week in which the author didn’t have much time but had to get something up. A stronger edit could have really tightened this novel and make it run at a good clip, in my opinion. For all this, it is not all so bad to be very bothersome, and I might have given the prose a higher score if it were not for all the darn telling (as opposed to showing) that occurs, particularly when it came to the operation of magic and the abilities of the title character.

Plot (7/10): The plot is amazingly coherent for a story put together piecemeal over a couple of years. It has depth and goes in completely unforeseen directions without feeling disjointed. The predictable reveals set the reader up for the true twists and unexpected reveals further down the line. The reader clearly recognizes that the kingdom is at stake long before the characters catch up, but then the author surprises the reader with the actual purpose of the conspiracy. All loose ends then tie up rather nicely.

Characters (8/10): Unsurprisingly, according to its genre (as per our host’s explanation), the novel’s strongest element is its characters. One of the book’s reviewers on Amazon notes that the characters start as stereotypes of regency fiction and then flesh out into new directions, and I agree with that assessment. Hoyt’s talent really shines in the way that she allows the reader to get to know the characters slowly, presenting false impressions and misconceptions, and then turning them on their head to show the human underneath. In fact, it is the humanity of the characters that really impresses — they all have believable flaws and struggles — particularly since not all of them are completely human. I enjoyed watching Hoyt lift the veil on this or that character’s actions to reveal the understandable motivations beneath.

Ideas (6/10): Three ideas are at work here:  the multiverse, fairy tale magic, and duty. Hoyt ably uses the multiverse concept to suit her purposes, and she also takes the opportunity to make some historical reference jokes. The take on magic is a bit foggy; I personally prefer to understand the rules of magic within a given universe, but these are never clearly explained. A recurring motif in describing the working of magic is the manipulation of the threads that make the tapestry of reality. The ultimate result is that, instead of taking the fantastic and making it seem believable, Hoyt takes the believable (characters) and then dumps it into a tableau of the fantastic. I assume, given the fairy tale theme, that this was intentional; it ends up feeling very much like the magic in fairy tales. Finally, the theme of duty resonates throughout, and the way the author uses the theme to mold the character’s decisions struck me enough to bump up this category’s score. Instead of denigrating duty as just oppressive and foolish, the burden and sometimes-tragedy of duty is acknowledged while still emphasizing and respecting its importance. This treatment of duty has become rare enough that it’s slightly jarring in the same way that the novel’s reasonable and respectful treatment of the sexes and regency customs (in a romance!) also feels slightly odd, but refreshing.

Overall (6/10): I enjoyed reading WITCHFINDER, and might give it
to a female friend who likes regency or fantasy romance, but probably
would not buy it for myself.

Sample text: “Now, Duke,” Gabriel Penn said, very mildly, but in a tone of worried distraction. He made as though to take a step sideways to pull his companion [Marlon] out of the dirt, or perhaps to succor him, but Seraphim [the Duke] held him fast.

“No, don’t you go trying to cajole me. You know what coils this creature embroiled you in, and you know he can only bring you dishonor and grief. Even if he captured you by dishonorable means, you should know–”

Gabriel Penn’s eyes flashed with a look not unlike Seraphim’s own when animated with near-uncontrollable fury, and for a moment he showed his teeth, pressed close together. Nell thought he was about to slug the Duke, and for just a second, without thinking, moved to step between them. Then she checked herself. Even on Earth, stepping between two men about to engage in a slugging match was perfectly stupid. But, stepping between two men from Britannia about to engage in a slugging match might be crazier. Not only would they slug it out around or over her, but they would also hold each other responsible for causing her to step in. Their rules of chivalry were complicated, but that one was obvious.

As she paused, Gabriel reached out and got hold of both of the duke’s arms above the elbow, “Your Grace, you bonehead, listen to me: Marlon Elfborn did not capture me. I went to him to ask for help when I had nowhere else to go.”

“Well,” Seraphim said, struggling to pull his arms away from his brother’s gripping fingers. “that only proves you’re not competent to run your own affairs. Furthermore–”

“Yes, I know, furthermore, he interrupted my education, raised the dead and deflowered the family goat. Give over Seraphim, you fool, do. Stop your vendetta and listen to me.”

“He deflowered what?” Seraphim said, stopping mid-shout and frowning.

A dark-red blush climbed Gabriel’s cheeks. His eyes darted at Nell, and he actually attempted to bow, which went to show that the training of Britannia men was quite past rationality or sanity even. “I beg your pardon Miss Felix…”