Your Hate Mail Will Be Graded: A Decade of Whatever, 1998-2008

by John Scalzi

  As it happens, Philip went to the Third Crusade, where he had a falling out with Richard and eventually headed back to Paris in a huff; once there, he tried to slip some of Richard’s lands in his pocket, just like Richard thought he would. The two eventually went to war over the whole thing. Richard was winning until he was shot in the chest by an archer and died. Legend has it that Richard actually congratulated the archer for the shot, which, frankly, strikes me as taking good manners just a little too far.

  You may wonder what about any of this makes Richard the best gay man of the last 1000 years. Actually, nothing; when it comes right down to it, Richard’s sexuality is one of the least interesting things about him. This is one facet he shares in common with other notable gay men of the last 1000 years, from Michelangelo to John Maynard Keynes.

  It’s also something he shares, of course, with the vast majority of heterosexual men through the years as well. Although since that’s the sexual norm, we don’t think about it that way. Rare is the moment in which we say “Albert Einstein discovered the theory of relativity. And, you know, he was straight.” One day, if we’re lucky, we’ll think the same about gay men and women. In the meantime, we’ll have Richard to remind us we’re more than the sum of our sexualities. That’s worth my vote.

  WHY

  CHRISTMAS

  Yesterday Athena and I were chatting about Christmas and I asked her if she knew why we had Christmas, and she explained to me that we had Christmas so that we could be with family and get presents and have food and be thankful. To which I said, yes, those are things we do on Christmas, but do you know why there’s a Christmas in the first place? To which she confessed she did not. So I explained to her how it was Jesus’ birthday, and how many people believe Jesus was the son of God, and that celebrating his birth was important to them. This then moved into a discussion of how old Jesus would be if he were alive today, and also how old God might be, and then we watched Tom & Jerry brutalize each other in cartoon fashion.

  We had this conversation for a simple reason, which is the same reason I’ve explained to her why people vote or how the sun is out there in space or why she can’t stick her finger in a wall socket just for fun: I want her to actually understand the world around her and why things are the way they are. As most of you know, I’m not in the slightest bit religious personally; at the same time I think it would be wrong if Athena’s only understanding of Christmas was as a jolly and secular gift-giving event. That’s not why Christmas exists; it exists because some 2000 years ago, someone was born who a couple billion people on the planet believe is the son of God, and those people want to commemorate the event. Athena, being five, might not understand all the implications of knowing that Christmas is Jesus’ birthday, not the least because she’s a little shaky on the theological implications of Jesus being Christ. And that’s fine; people who are considerably older have a difficult time wrapping their brains about it as well. But putting that into her consciousness now means that at some future point in time we can expand on it and explore it more. I see it as a building block.

  And what will I teach her about Christmas as she gets older? Everything I think is important, and also everything she wants to know (which may not always be the same things). I’ll read to her the Biblical stories of the birth of Jesus; I’ll also explain to her one of the reasons we celebrate Christmas when we do was a matter of the Church co-opting Solstice observances to accommodate previously pagan converts. We’ll sing Christmas carols; I’ll explain the history of the Christmas tree and Santa Claus. I’ll answer the questions she asks, and help her find the answers for herself. I think over time she’ll get a good understanding of Christmas as a religious holiday and as a secular gift-exchange extravaganza. And in the end, if all goes as planned, she’ll make her own decisions about the importance of each of these aspects to her. But it’s critically important she understand that at the root of it all is the birth of a child many consider divine. As they say, it’s the reason of the season.

  As I’m not personally religious, some of you may ask why I would make the effort to teach Athena the religious aspects of the holiday. The reasons are several. The first is that even if one doubts the Christhood of Jesus, one may still admire him as a man, a thinker, and an icon of peace. You don’t have to be a Christian to want your child to know that Jesus is at the heart of Christmas. The second is that it’s my job as a parent to teach my child these things; I don’t want my child picking up theology on the proverbial street corner because we don’t teach her about it at home. That seems a fine way for her to pick up some dubious knowledge from dubious people who might eventually get her in trouble. Better that we introduce her to that sort of thing. Third, it’s not a bad thing to reinforce the idea that when Athena does have questions about any subject, she can come to us, and we’re going to tell her as much of the truth of things as we can.

  Also, unlike a fair number of the non-religious, I’m not antagonistic toward religion per se, or Christianity specifically. As I’ve said elsewhere, I think Christianity is a fine religion, and I wish more Christians practiced it. And, not entirely separately, of course one reads a story in the newspaper about Christians were who so incensed that a manger scene was taken out of a school play that they voted down much-needed funds for their school district, or that they’ve mandated teaching “intelligent design” in high school biology classes, and one wonders why so many Christians seem to believe that Jesus wants their children to be dumb as lard, as if there’s some sort of natural opposition between accepting Christ as one’s savior and increasing one’s knowledge of the world to the limits of one’s God-given abilities. But that’s not about Christianity, or religion in general; that’s about some people’s thick-headed interpretation of it and the religious impulse. I don’t blame Jesus for the stupidity of some of his followers; we don’t get to choose our fans.

  I am not religious, but I would not be disappointed if my daughter decided to become so, over the fullness of time and through a depth of knowledge, since it is not a failure of the either the human intellect or spirit to seek the divine. Where I would have failed her is if her religious impulse were to take on a close-minded, fearful and intolerant cast. I would have equally failed her if she were non-religious but also close-minded, fearful and intolerant of those who had such an impulse.

  In the end, I want to teach my daughter about Jesus so she can understand him, understand those who see him as the son of God, and understand how he fits into her own view of the world. Making sure she understands why Christmas exists is a good starting point. It’s early in her understanding of all of this, of course. But better early than too late.

  AYN RAND:

  MOM!

  Mail from Libertarians (more than one) discussing the crack I made in the “I Hate Your Politics” rant about them all being disappointed that they’re not the illegitimate children of Ayn Rand and Robert Heinlein. Most are admitting this is true (The Libertarians as a group are being rather good-natured about the ribbing, much like a secure bald guy tolerates jokes about not having any hair), but a couple have expressed a horror contemplating at least one of these authors as a progenitor. The most recent e-mail along this line, solidly in Ayn’s camp, noted: “I would have been satisfied to have Ayn Rand as a mother, [but] to have the author of numerous execrable Lazarus Long novels as my father would cause me to contemplate self-destruction.”

  Which of course caused me to contemplate: Given the choice between Heinlein and Rand, which would I want as a parent? Let’s posit that one couldn’t have both—beyond such a union causing the cracking of at least four of the seven seals, there’s a pretty good chance that after about 15 minutes in each other’s presence, either or both of them would have been thumbing their holsters. There can only be one Alpha Male in the room. In a shootout, incidentally, it’d be even money: Heinlein would probably be faster off the draw, but Rand would probably need a stake through the heart to go down. (Before you start: I know about Rand and
her thoughts on force. But let’s just see her try to reason with Angry Bob.)

  Personally, I’m not so sure I’d want Heinlein for a dad (too much weapons-handling and gruff-but-fair cuffing around the ears), but I can say with absolute certainly that the idea of Rand as my mother fills me with an unholy terror. As, I’m sure, it would fill Rand to contemplate me as a child of hers, or, really, to have any children whatsoever. Some people want children, and some want acolytes, and Rand was well into that second camp. Children are unreasonable. Acolytes aren’t (well, maybe they are, but they know to keep it away from you).

  But why go on into detail about all the reasons I wouldn’t want Ayn Rand for a mom when a cheap-and-simplistic Top Ten list will do? And so, without further ado:

  The Top Ten Reasons You Don’t Want Ayn Rand as Your Mom

  10: Her not-so-secret disappointment that you weren’t able to operate a speedboat the first time you saw one, even after watching the help do it for ten whole minutes.

  9: Birthday gifts: Erector sets and a “Lil’ Smelter” kit.

  8: Pushing you to date her young male followers after she’s “vetted” them is really kind of creepy.

  7: At bedtime, reads you The Giving Tree as a cautionary tale.

  6: Wouldn’t speak to you for a week after you admitted that you kind of like useless ornamentation.

  5: Her “Birds and Bees” chat to you sounds like a particularly seamy scene in a film by David Fincher.

  4: Always ends arguments by throwing down a bunch of pictures of modern buildings; seems angry that you don’t see the logic.

  3: Dismisses your desire to visit Disneyland as “Anti-Life.” She’s right, of course, but you’re still disappointed.

  2: Tears down the house rather than let you choose the wallpaper for your room.

  1: Your Babysitter: Alan Greenspan.

  THINGS TO KNOW

  ABOUT CLONES

  Just some general notes on the care and feeding of clones.

  1. They will always want to dress exactly the same. It’s a group identity thing. Try to get one to wear a different shirt or maybe some pants while the others are wearing shorts, and they all start screaming in this weirdly-synchronized, air-siren-like way, which is damn annoying. Since you’ll no doubt have tattooed the bottoms of their feet or the back of their neck or where ever with the usual identifying barcode, what do you care? Let the idiots all dress the same. The good news is that clones apparently have no fashion sense and will be happy to wear cheap T-Shirts and denim more or less on a constant basis. Wal-Mart fashions were made for clones.

  2. Many of you will think that once you’ve created a clone, you can get it to do all your work for you while you lounge on the deck, drinking a frosty mug of brew. What is rather more likely to happen is that your clone will be just as lazy as you are and will tell you to mow your own damn lawn, and then grab the remote to watch Sports Center. Adding additional clones does not help the situation; what you end up with is a couch full of people who look just like you, mocking you about your work habits. You want someone to mow the lawn, hire a gardener.

  3. Your clones will be under the impression that they are also married to your wife. You need to nip that shit in the bud, like, pronto.

  4. Clones are naturally apprehensive about their purpose in life, so they are understandably somewhat humorless when you answer their “why am I here?” questions with answers like “why, to be harvested for organs, of course.” Especially when that is, in fact, why they are here. Really, people. Don’t tell them. It just makes them jumpy and liable to come after you with handy tools.

  5. Tangentially related: Evil clone? Never happens. Bitter, sarcastic clone? Every freakin’ time.

  6. Clones eat like the proverbial horses. They will tell you that it’s due to shortened telomeres, or body fatigue from being forced to grow into an adult body or whatever. It’s all lies, despicable lies. Clones will go through a week’s worth of food in two days, and then you’ll just have a chunky version of yourself grazing in the pantry. Establish “you pay for what you eat” rules early and often or you will never hear the end of it.

  7. If you have more than one clone, they will blame the other ones for whatever terrible things they did (i.e., “it wasn’t me who ate the last donut/vivisected the cat/tried to asphyxiate you while you slept—It was Clone Two!”). Early on you will be able to counter this through the fact that even though clones have the same DNA, they have different fingerprints, but then they get wise and start wearing gloves. They’re sneaky, you see. Simple solution: GPS chips embedded in the shoulder before you first wake them up, otherwise they’ll dig them out with a screwdriver or butter knife or something, and then aside from having an unchipped clone on the loose and wreaking havoc, there’s all that blood you have to clean up. And no, the other clones won’t mop it up for you. See point number 2.

  8. One good thing about clones: They are endlessly fascinated by the folks who come to the door wanting to talk to you about Jesus. Also telemarketers. Indulge them (it’s harmless enough) but under no circumstances let them near your credit card numbers.

  9. Games of “Rock Paper Scissors” with a clone always end in a tie. At first it’s kind of cool. But then the clones just can’t let it go.

  10. Eventually your clone will get the idea of cloning itself. You might think it’s a bad idea at first—everyone knows that a clone of clone is like a second generation photocopy, and it becomes slightly more smudged, and then next thing you know you’ve got a drooling idjit that looks like a mashup between you and the late Marty Feldman—but on the other hand, by the time your clone gets this idea, you’ll have realized that all your clone is good for is sitting on the couch and mocking you while it eats your food and tries to trick your wife into having sex with it. Doesn’t your clone deserve to be similarly afflicted? Sure it does. Be warned, however: Your clone’s clone will still want to sleep with your wife. They’re just that way.

  UNASKED-FOR

  ADVICE TO

  NEW WRITERS

  ABOUT MONEY

  Imade $164,000 last year from my writing. I’ve averaged more than $100,000 in writing income for the last ten years, which means, for those of you who don’t want to bother with the math, that I’ve made more than a million dollars from my writing in the last decade. In 2000, I wrote a book on, finance, The Rough Guide to Money Online. For several years I wrote personal finance newsletters for America Online. When I do corporate consulting, it’s very often been for financial services companies like Oppenheimer Funds, US Trust and Warburg Pincus. I mention this to you so that you know that when I offer you, the new, aspiring and dewey-eyed writer, the following entirely unsolicited advice about money, I’m not talking entirely out of my ass.

  Why am I offering this entirely unsolicited advice about money to new writers? Because it very often appears to me that regardless of how smart and clever and interesting and fun my fellow writers are on every other imaginable subject, when it comes to money—and specifically their own money—writers have as much sense as chimps on crack. It’s not just writers—all creative people seem to have the “incredibly stupid with money” gene set for maximum expression—but since most of creative people I know are writers, they’re the nexus of money stupidity I have the most experience with. It makes me sad and also embarrasses the crap out of me; people as smart as writers are ought to know better.

  The following advice is not complete; there’s lots I won’t be covering here. Some it is repeated from things I’ve written before but are so far down in the archives I know you’ll never find them. Some of this advice may not apply to you; some of it may apply to you but you may be too delusional or arrogant to acknowledge it, or you may decide you don’t like my tone and ignore it all because of that. Most of it is applicable to writers who are not new, too, but I don’t know how many of them are interested in taking advice from me. This is US-centered although may be generally applicable elsewhere. It’s meant for writers but may have a
pplication to you in other fields; decide for yourself.

  I do not guarantee this advice will make you a more successful writer or a better human being. Follow this advice at your own peril. That said, know that it’s generally worked for me. That’s why I’m sharing it with you.

  One more thing: This is long.

  1. You’re a writer. Prepare to be broke.

  Writers make crap. Why do they make crap? For many reasons, beginning with forces outside their control (publishers pay as little as humanly possible; lots of would-be writers willing to work for pennies, keeping the pay rates low) and working up to forces entirely within their control (writers playing with their XBox 360s instead of writing; willingness to be to paid stupid low rates for their work). Most salaried writers in the US are lucky if they get above $50,000 a year; most freelance writers in the United States (which includes novelists, screenwriters, etc.) could make more money being assistant manager at the local Wal-Mart. It’s not a joke.

  (But, you say to me, you’re a freelance writer and you’ve made at least $100,000 a year for the last decade. Yes I have. And I’m an outlier; I’m over there to the right of the writing income bell curve. I’m there for many reasons, luck, skill and business sense being the big three, and all three interact with each other. Skill and business sense you can work on; luck happens, or doesn’t. There are lots of writers I know who have two out of the three. Many of them make less than I do. It’s not necessarily fair. Funny how that works.)