Like I said, classic Bulwer-Lytton contest material.
Disqualified, because entries have to be deliberately bad.
I need to read more. How does the incandescent fireball darken a sky to be black like during a Solar Eclipse? (I assume Solar Eclipse is an obscure folk band, being capitalized as a proper noun.)
I’m intrigued by this great mystery.
Sure, but this one is so obviously bad, it has to count.
I’ve been contemplating those two sentences for a couple of minutes . . . and then the blood started to leak from my ears and nose.
“The blood ran red as liquid, while the body slowly drained of it. It pooled on the floor like a puddle.” - My submission to the Bulwer-Lytton contest
“I know a good restaurant in space.”
Also: “ovular”. Her face was like an egg or seed?
Does he describe the stewardess as having a “great rack”? Because that’s the ultimate complo.
n/m – too late! I see that Bulwer-Lytton has already been mentioned several times!
The reason I googled his name in the first place is because in my experience people that post long nutty rants under their real name tend to post long nutty rants under their real name far and wide.
BTW, on the next page, she asks him what it would be like if someone blew up the space elevator. He assured her it would be bad. Immediately after he said that somebody blew up the space elevator.
“Her breasts had two circular protrusions like the star cruiser didn’t.”
Okay, he didn’t say that. Maybe.
I did find it progressive that space curise lines in the future are willing to hire homely stewardesses.
I read through a bunch of his “aphorisms” last night, from his eponymous book of wisdom.
Most of it is grade-school deep thoughts. Some of it seems very nearly progressive but then you realize it’s just his tapioca version of Bible camp edginess. Then I saw a couple aphorisms about why LGBT people are bad (homosexuals are selfish and trans folks are liars) and I felt I’d gotten far more than I needed.
It’s very elegant. Morsels of food go floating by in all directions, and the guests compete to snag it with their tongues, like a mess of iguanas at the zoo.
It’s the humiliating nose and cleft chin that gives her face that spore-like impression.
I do have a few casual observations about this sample of fine literature.
I think it’s commendable that ol’ B.K. abandons the stereotype of good-looking characters. Our hero is apparently obese and sports hair like a shit-encrusted mop. His date has a face like an egg with an immense nose. She must have been a cab driver for a long time because her first response on being asked out is “where to?”.
She’s apparently some sort of unhinged imbecile who blushes whenever anyone speaks to her. It doesn’t matter what they say, her egg-like face immediately reddens like a ripe tomato. How this blushing cretin ever got a job as a “stewardess” (a charming return to a misogynistic term that hasn’t been used in decades) is a mystery. Maybe it was her experience in the transportation industry as a perennially red-faced cabbie. She’s bound to get along well with our hero, though, who is also an imbecile: he’s working on a vitally important manuscript, but he leaves it behind everywhere he goes and has to start all over again. That thing will never get finished. If only they had computers and cloud backups, out there in the distant future.
Space space wanna go to space yes please space. Space space. Go to space.
Anyway: my vote is “not a troll, just a person who really needs to get out more”.
No, he needs to continue staying in. That way he can’t run over anybody and go to prision for it. Again.
Looks kinda like AI writing to me.
This is the line I hit and was like, “Does he–does he not know how light works?”
If hard science fiction means that the author puts a lot of thought into scientific accuracy, this is the softest science fiction I’ve ever seen.
All I can think he’s imagining is that in a photograph of a very bright fireball, on a simple camera with uniform exposure the sky may appear dark. But of course our visual system is better than a simple camera.