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Spacewarp, v. 4, issue 2, November 1948
Page 15
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where Steve and Vicki were surrounded by wolves..... * * * * * PURELY INFORMATIONAL. The "new" author, Benj. Miller, whose Orig Prem yarns are appearing in TWS, is really a pseudonym for one of the authors appearing in the October issue. All right, lardhead, guess! ... Lewis Padgett's The Day He Died, a mysteryarn which is shot stf's fair-haired boy to "top rank among suspense writers" is out in paperback form. ... Ray Bradbury's favorite month is October. ... Redlance Press will publish a booklet this winter titled The Revolt of the Pedestrians, by David H. Keller, M.D. A permitted reprint from the Feb., 1928 Amazing, it brings the Doc's first-published yarn back into print after 20 years. 20[[cent symbol]] from Redd Boggs, address it at the head of this column. (So it is a plug, Art! But didn't Tympani give Warp a free plug or two?) * * * * * WHILE WE LIVE, LET US LIVE. Like thoughtful men everywhere, stf fans are soberly concerned about the next war -- Atomigeddon. It speaks well for them that they have the old guts to consider the possibility. Though fans habitually look toward the future, it has always been toward hope, toward utopia. The necessity of staring into bleakness now, after all these years, is enough to strip a mental gear, but fans are doing it quite honestly in bull-session and fanzine. How will war start? Can we prevent it? What are changes of personal survival? Your humble file-clerk has sat in on many intellectual discussions wherein these vital questions were brilliantly dealt with, but the probability of atomic war has often seemed no more terrifying than, say, the solution of the three-body problem. Recently, though, I have deliberately subjected myself to a heavy dose of current-eventitis -- Winchell, Drew Pearson and all the editorial-page servieners. My gizzard is frosted, if not actually congealed. War may not be inevitable, but let's not kid oursleves, people, it is coming and nobody sees anything on the horizon that can stop it. What shall we do? What shall we do? We can use some common-sense and cease to work against the almost-inevitable. We can toss out our piddling little efforts to turn the tide of disaster. If the VIPs who ride the planes to conferences in Paris and Berlin and Moscow can't -- or won't -- steer us into safer channels, we can't do a damn thing. We can say our farewells to this civilization, not without nostalgia, but with a sure feeling that if it cannot save itself, it does not deserve saving. Perhaps the next rulers of the Earth will do a better job. From here on, let the motto be Dum vivimus, vivamus. Personally, I'll be at the local tavern, if you're looking for me. Later, I'll see you when we march into the shambles where Moscow used to be. Or I'll see you in hell. - finis - 30 AND [[?]] [[?]] after the rough draft is set forth with a brittle crack and a rumble and gives place to the footnotes of whimpers whose punctuation is a sudden scream in the distance with the spasmodic thump of a dying child's leg bloodily scraping again and again at a fallen timber the pen of an editor marking copy then i'll watch the topheavy cloud ascend with eyes already beginning to liquify and comprehend that the final chapter is finished ...don't miss our next issue. out in one eon..... AHR 15
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where Steve and Vicki were surrounded by wolves..... * * * * * PURELY INFORMATIONAL. The "new" author, Benj. Miller, whose Orig Prem yarns are appearing in TWS, is really a pseudonym for one of the authors appearing in the October issue. All right, lardhead, guess! ... Lewis Padgett's The Day He Died, a mysteryarn which is shot stf's fair-haired boy to "top rank among suspense writers" is out in paperback form. ... Ray Bradbury's favorite month is October. ... Redlance Press will publish a booklet this winter titled The Revolt of the Pedestrians, by David H. Keller, M.D. A permitted reprint from the Feb., 1928 Amazing, it brings the Doc's first-published yarn back into print after 20 years. 20[[cent symbol]] from Redd Boggs, address it at the head of this column. (So it is a plug, Art! But didn't Tympani give Warp a free plug or two?) * * * * * WHILE WE LIVE, LET US LIVE. Like thoughtful men everywhere, stf fans are soberly concerned about the next war -- Atomigeddon. It speaks well for them that they have the old guts to consider the possibility. Though fans habitually look toward the future, it has always been toward hope, toward utopia. The necessity of staring into bleakness now, after all these years, is enough to strip a mental gear, but fans are doing it quite honestly in bull-session and fanzine. How will war start? Can we prevent it? What are changes of personal survival? Your humble file-clerk has sat in on many intellectual discussions wherein these vital questions were brilliantly dealt with, but the probability of atomic war has often seemed no more terrifying than, say, the solution of the three-body problem. Recently, though, I have deliberately subjected myself to a heavy dose of current-eventitis -- Winchell, Drew Pearson and all the editorial-page servieners. My gizzard is frosted, if not actually congealed. War may not be inevitable, but let's not kid oursleves, people, it is coming and nobody sees anything on the horizon that can stop it. What shall we do? What shall we do? We can use some common-sense and cease to work against the almost-inevitable. We can toss out our piddling little efforts to turn the tide of disaster. If the VIPs who ride the planes to conferences in Paris and Berlin and Moscow can't -- or won't -- steer us into safer channels, we can't do a damn thing. We can say our farewells to this civilization, not without nostalgia, but with a sure feeling that if it cannot save itself, it does not deserve saving. Perhaps the next rulers of the Earth will do a better job. From here on, let the motto be Dum vivimus, vivamus. Personally, I'll be at the local tavern, if you're looking for me. Later, I'll see you when we march into the shambles where Moscow used to be. Or I'll see you in hell. - finis - 30 AND [[?]] [[?]] after the rough draft is set forth with a brittle crack and a rumble and gives place to the footnotes of whimpers whose punctuation is a sudden scream in the distance with the spasmodic thump of a dying child's leg bloodily scraping again and again at a fallen timber the pen of an editor marking copy then i'll watch the topheavy cloud ascend with eyes already beginning to liquify and comprehend that the final chapter is finished ...don't miss our next issue. out in one eon..... AHR 15
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