One for the heart, one for the soul, and one to keep you smiling

Lisa Hill Biales wrote Playing with Angels. I have yet to hear it all the way through without crying. If you’ve ever loved and lost – a dog, a child, a friend – it’s a comfort, in its own way. After you finish crying. It’s apparently available as a snippet – or for sale – on her PayPlay page.

For pure soul, there’s nothing quite a bright and shiny as Cary Tennis and what he’s doing on Salon. Did you ever read Ray Bradbury? He morphed from incredible ice cream suits, Martians and Halloween to being able to see the swan eaten by the dragon in ancient ladies and knowing that his father ties – he does not tie – his tie. His late father. And the readers of science fiction and fantasy went along for the ride, immersing themselves in some of the finest American writing ever to be committed to paper.
Well, Cary Tennis is doing something like that. He’s sort of an advice columnist – but he’s channeling directly from what matters in life. Check out his column today about how insight presents itself as uncomfortable rages breaking through that thin veneer of civilization. Pure gold, that is.

And for the smile on your face (and the translation link): Babylon was so aptly named! Now, I love it as much as anyone, but the monolingual Israeli parliamentary reporter who was about to receive an all expenses paid trip to the Netherlands really shouldn’t have used it to translate his questions to the Dutch Foreign Minister. Due to a great lack of vowels and common sense, every time the parliamentary reporter (dude named Eichler) meant to ask “if” (Hebrew: “im”) something was true, it was translated as “mother” (Hebrew: “em”); every time he wanted to ask about a “Persian threat” (Hebrew: “iyum Irani”) he got “terrible Persian” (Hebrew: “Irani ayom”).
I’ve sent it off to the ATA PR Committee, which will use it to help make the point that real-live translators cannot be replaced. Not even by terrible Persians.