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Southern Star, v. 1, issue 3, August 1941
Page 4
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Mumblings SOUTHERN STAR Page 4 ers, TWS would snatch him up. We gave him Doc Lowndes' address, advised him that Doc was just the agent to peddle his work, and presented him with our blessing. Doc is asked to kindly advise us on the merits of the first painting received. Maybe we have discovered another Bok. We do most of our heavy thinking in bed. Saddled with a combination asthma-insomnia of a sort, we find no greater pastime than lying awake far into the night twiddling fingers and toes, meanwhile reviewing the events of the day in the fan press and private correspondence Now and then, of course, as is to be expected of such mental struggle, we pop up with a world-shaking theory of dynamic scientific concepts, but realizing that it would only antoagonize the pro-scientists, we reluctantly dispose of it. The other night we were dwelling on some of the events of 1940, and immediately thought of the column Joe Gilbert had penned somewhere summing up and indexing outstanding attractions of the year. Joe noted "Yngvi is a Louse" as the neatest phrase of the year. We then recalled another which was the rage (!) of 1939. "Unendurable pleasure, indefinitely prolonged!" I believe Moskowitz used it first in describing the 1939 Convention, and thus started a royal crack on the road to fan fame. Racking our poor minute brains to the limit in previous nightly episodes, we could not place that neat flip; for we were cortain that Moskowitz never originated it all by himself. And then, bing! the other night it came to us.The pretty trick is straight from a pair of books (and probably a third, a sequel) which are in a way fantasies, in that they have to do with the wandering jow and his servant, another deathless one. The books are (1) My First Two Thousand Years, Maculay, 1928; and (2) The Invincible Adam, Liveright, 1932. Both are written by Viereck and Eldridge. The third in the series, which I haven't yet read, is Salome: The Wandering Jewess, publisher and date unknown to me. Both books revolve about the other, both deal with the same principal characters of course. And wandering around for two thousand years, the boys must naturally find something better to do than count peanuts and people. "Unendurable pleasure, indefinitely prolonged!" Yes, they are that kind of book. Credit Moskowitz, please then, with the "Yngvi" of 1939. Now and then a fan luckily grabs off a rich prize for a small sum and is immediately made frothingly happy thereby. Witness Rothman capturing a good copy of the first Amazing for about 35c in Philly. And on the other hand, probably just as often, a fan is royally or otherwise rocked, but we don't hear his tale so often. Why not? We see no reason fro being backward about such things; for we are certainly entitled to gloat over your misfortune, in turn for being envious of your good fortune. Gloat then, one and all, over the rooking of Tucker. That rum Korshak, a self-advertised "honorable" book dealer fostered off on us a strange copy of Huxley's satire, Brave New World (Doubleday, 1932), Strange in that it never ends for us correctly: the last section of 45 or so pages is repeated twice, and the same number of proper pages that should be there are missing. We repeat, Korshak: the rum! Earl Singleton and myself once held dear the illusion that Nebraska Nellie, otherwise known as D.B. Thompson, was a girl. Earl called my attention to some of the writings of Thompson in then current fanmags, particularly a lengthy letter in Fanfare, which, apparently, ho had dissected line by line, phrase by phrase, chasing the mirage. The
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Mumblings SOUTHERN STAR Page 4 ers, TWS would snatch him up. We gave him Doc Lowndes' address, advised him that Doc was just the agent to peddle his work, and presented him with our blessing. Doc is asked to kindly advise us on the merits of the first painting received. Maybe we have discovered another Bok. We do most of our heavy thinking in bed. Saddled with a combination asthma-insomnia of a sort, we find no greater pastime than lying awake far into the night twiddling fingers and toes, meanwhile reviewing the events of the day in the fan press and private correspondence Now and then, of course, as is to be expected of such mental struggle, we pop up with a world-shaking theory of dynamic scientific concepts, but realizing that it would only antoagonize the pro-scientists, we reluctantly dispose of it. The other night we were dwelling on some of the events of 1940, and immediately thought of the column Joe Gilbert had penned somewhere summing up and indexing outstanding attractions of the year. Joe noted "Yngvi is a Louse" as the neatest phrase of the year. We then recalled another which was the rage (!) of 1939. "Unendurable pleasure, indefinitely prolonged!" I believe Moskowitz used it first in describing the 1939 Convention, and thus started a royal crack on the road to fan fame. Racking our poor minute brains to the limit in previous nightly episodes, we could not place that neat flip; for we were cortain that Moskowitz never originated it all by himself. And then, bing! the other night it came to us.The pretty trick is straight from a pair of books (and probably a third, a sequel) which are in a way fantasies, in that they have to do with the wandering jow and his servant, another deathless one. The books are (1) My First Two Thousand Years, Maculay, 1928; and (2) The Invincible Adam, Liveright, 1932. Both are written by Viereck and Eldridge. The third in the series, which I haven't yet read, is Salome: The Wandering Jewess, publisher and date unknown to me. Both books revolve about the other, both deal with the same principal characters of course. And wandering around for two thousand years, the boys must naturally find something better to do than count peanuts and people. "Unendurable pleasure, indefinitely prolonged!" Yes, they are that kind of book. Credit Moskowitz, please then, with the "Yngvi" of 1939. Now and then a fan luckily grabs off a rich prize for a small sum and is immediately made frothingly happy thereby. Witness Rothman capturing a good copy of the first Amazing for about 35c in Philly. And on the other hand, probably just as often, a fan is royally or otherwise rocked, but we don't hear his tale so often. Why not? We see no reason fro being backward about such things; for we are certainly entitled to gloat over your misfortune, in turn for being envious of your good fortune. Gloat then, one and all, over the rooking of Tucker. That rum Korshak, a self-advertised "honorable" book dealer fostered off on us a strange copy of Huxley's satire, Brave New World (Doubleday, 1932), Strange in that it never ends for us correctly: the last section of 45 or so pages is repeated twice, and the same number of proper pages that should be there are missing. We repeat, Korshak: the rum! Earl Singleton and myself once held dear the illusion that Nebraska Nellie, otherwise known as D.B. Thompson, was a girl. Earl called my attention to some of the writings of Thompson in then current fanmags, particularly a lengthy letter in Fanfare, which, apparently, ho had dissected line by line, phrase by phrase, chasing the mirage. The
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