And, since Making Money is going to be published in the US next week, I'm assuming Terry Pratchett will be interviewed a time or two also. We will, of course, go link-happy when that happens.
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The Guardian interviews Gaiman for no reason other than that he's Neil freaking Gaiman. Works for me.
Sometimes it is. "In theory, the planet has 24 time zones. Actually, there are about 39, and they are still hotly debated. Within the past month, President Hugo Chavez has talked of moving Venezuela’s clocks forward half an hour, and Indian scientists have urged their government to do the same."
Huckleberry, on the other hand, practices his cat fu mind-tricks out in the open—where they aren't at all effective.
Bagheera is a past mistress at the art of cat fu, the ability to comfortably inhabit spaces too small for her to fit into.
Silicon Valley's culture didn't begin with Hewlett and Packard's garage or, for that matter, the "treacherous eight" from Fairchild Semiconductor. The stage was set in 1909, in the wake of the great quake—and at the birth of radio.
Gareth Rees calculates that the British archers at Agincourt might have rained 50,000 arrows a minute for a solid eight minutes onto the French. So if you were snorting derisively at the title's combination of "medieval" and "physics," consider this: Agincourt was, essentially, the first battle where conventional cavalry tactics met the equivalent of the machine gun.
The Beeb has an animated "front line" Western Front feature. Its only weakness is that it is antiseptic, which that war was definitely not.
Wilfred Owen had it right,
Dulce Et Decorum Est
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of disappointed shells…