New PoD-Cast on Hairy Ticks!!!
- SandChigger
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New PoD-Cast on Hairy Ticks!!!
We've just completed and uploaded for your listening...pleasure(?)...a new podcast containing another excerpt from Paul of Dune. (My copy of the UK paperback arrived this morning! )
http://radiofreearrakeen.hairyticksofdune.net/
http://radiofreearrakeen.hairyticksofdune.net/
"Chancho...sometimes when you are a man...you wear stretchy pants...in your room...alone."
"Politics is never simple, like the sand chigger of Arrakis, one is rarely truly free of its bite."
Arrakeen is an unawakened ghola.
"Politics is never simple, like the sand chigger of Arrakis, one is rarely truly free of its bite."
Arrakeen is an unawakened ghola.
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Fine Torinean brocade? Are they turning Paul into Erasmus?
But BH & KJA were right about one thing. My heart soars to hear how the Arrakeen authorities implemented a policy to manage increased heighliner traffic. Now the Dune tales truly are complete, at least as far as I am concerned.
Waidaminnut!
"Something reminded him of the stately green-eyed beauty he called mother. But no, she was on Caladan." WTF is this? Reminds me of Booger's line in Revenge of the Nerds, where he was asked "What are you looking at, nerd?" to which he replies "I thought it was my mother's douche-bag, but no, that's back in Pittsburgh." Sheer genius! That really is some "high-gear" shit, man!
But BH & KJA were right about one thing. My heart soars to hear how the Arrakeen authorities implemented a policy to manage increased heighliner traffic. Now the Dune tales truly are complete, at least as far as I am concerned.
Waidaminnut!
"Something reminded him of the stately green-eyed beauty he called mother. But no, she was on Caladan." WTF is this? Reminds me of Booger's line in Revenge of the Nerds, where he was asked "What are you looking at, nerd?" to which he replies "I thought it was my mother's douche-bag, but no, that's back in Pittsburgh." Sheer genius! That really is some "high-gear" shit, man!
Something is about to happen, Hal. Something wonderful!
-James C. Harwood, Science Fiction Writer, Straight (March 5, 1956 - May 25, 2010)
The Omphalos Umbrella Page
-James C. Harwood, Science Fiction Writer, Straight (March 5, 1956 - May 25, 2010)
The Omphalos Umbrella Page
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Seriously, does KJA own part of a textiles plant in Thailand that he thinks he has to promote or something? He is constantly going on about what these people are wearing.
Something is about to happen, Hal. Something wonderful!
-James C. Harwood, Science Fiction Writer, Straight (March 5, 1956 - May 25, 2010)
The Omphalos Umbrella Page
-James C. Harwood, Science Fiction Writer, Straight (March 5, 1956 - May 25, 2010)
The Omphalos Umbrella Page
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Scan finished
10,197 AG
Four Years After the Fall of Shaddam IV
So many lives within me, so many voices! A lifetime would not suffice to listen to them all!
—Paul-Muad’Dib Atreides, Meditations of an Emperor
Night had come to Arrakeen, replacing the searing bedlam and broiling clamor of the day with something of the cool silent serenity of the deep desert. And yet Paul could not sleep. He lay awake on the luxurious bedding beside his beloved Chani and waited until her soft, measured breathing told him she was asleep, and then he arose and quietly wrapped himself in a light robe of fine Terrinian broccato before stepping out onto the wide balcony adjoining their bedroom. He signaled for the guard at the far end of the balcony to leave and watched as the man disappeared into a secret passage behind a cleverly concealed door.
At last the Emperor of the Known Universe was alone and stood gazing down upon the sleeping form of the city he had made his capital. How different the face it presented now from that which sweated in the dust and heat of the midday sun. Arrakeen of Dune . . . the name itself was enough to make the hearts of devoted converts leap within their breasts across the Imperium. The daytime streets of the city were choked to impassibility with the pilgrims who flocked to Arrakis, millions every year, overflowing from the shuttles which travelled back and forth all day between the Guild Heighliners in orbit and the growing spaceport on the outskirts of the city. From this vantage point he could see the lights of the landing fields, greatly expanded over the last couple of years to handle the increased volume of traffic.
Paul looked up at the almost unflickering stars and thought of the worlds that circled them, planets from which so many pilgrims came to worship him. And he thought about how many of those worlds were even now the scene of bloody battles in his name. He wanted to close his eyes but knew that doing so would only bring dreams . . . that would give way to the frightening visions that haunted his soul. And also bring the voices. . . .
The Jihad progressed, his fanatical holy warriors spreading ever further afield, bringing destruction to many of the star systems in their path. Paul was wracked with guilt over what he had unleashed on the universe, but still could see no way to rein in the bloodthirsty hordes of his followers. Every solution he imagined led only to even bloodier visions of the future. He was near to despair, made worse by the certain knowledge that his own suicide or death would only intensify the horrors still to come.
“What can I do?!” he implored of the night.
“Perhaps you need counsel other than your own.”
The woman’s voice had come from the far end of the balcony, in the shadows that hid the door to the passage the guard had used. Had some spy or assassin managed to invade his sanctum? A Reverend Mother of the hated Bene Gesserit?
He strained but could see no one there. Then, slowly, as if coalescing from the darkness itself, a figure moved slowly towards him.
“Who are you?!” he challenged, but the woman said nothing and continued to approach. Something about the figure reminded him of the stately, green-eyed beauty he called mother—Jessica. But no, she was on Caladan and he had not seen her since he had returned there with her for a visit three years before. Finally the woman came to a place where her face was lit by the lights of the city below and she stopped. Although by no means old, the face he saw was lined with care. Paul thought to himself that she had probably possessed a classical beauty when younger. Her hair was brown but streaked with gray, and her eyes were piercing. She looked familiar, but he didn’t recognize her.
“My name is the least important of the things that I can tell you,” she said. “I can teach you of the art of jihad, which you desperately need to learn!”
“Who are you?!”
“Never mind that. We haven’t much time this time. You fret and worry that your army is but a horde of fanatics yet seem to forget that a force of fighting fanatics is able to overcome any number of enemy soldiers and weapons!”
“I worry because I have seen the future. I disturbed and awed. The masses-”
“And I have lived the past. To guide, to manipulate the masses who flock to your banner is the only way to defend what must be preserved. To oppose them is to become a rock on the beach, broken and worn away by the tide.”
“Who ARE you?!” Paul cried, growing exasperated.
“Have you not figured it out by now? I am Serena Butler, the mother of all jihads.”
Four Years After the Fall of Shaddam IV
So many lives within me, so many voices! A lifetime would not suffice to listen to them all!
—Paul-Muad’Dib Atreides, Meditations of an Emperor
Night had come to Arrakeen, replacing the searing bedlam and broiling clamor of the day with something of the cool silent serenity of the deep desert. And yet Paul could not sleep. He lay awake on the luxurious bedding beside his beloved Chani and waited until her soft, measured breathing told him she was asleep, and then he arose and quietly wrapped himself in a light robe of fine Terrinian broccato before stepping out onto the wide balcony adjoining their bedroom. He signaled for the guard at the far end of the balcony to leave and watched as the man disappeared into a secret passage behind a cleverly concealed door.
At last the Emperor of the Known Universe was alone and stood gazing down upon the sleeping form of the city he had made his capital. How different the face it presented now from that which sweated in the dust and heat of the midday sun. Arrakeen of Dune . . . the name itself was enough to make the hearts of devoted converts leap within their breasts across the Imperium. The daytime streets of the city were choked to impassibility with the pilgrims who flocked to Arrakis, millions every year, overflowing from the shuttles which travelled back and forth all day between the Guild Heighliners in orbit and the growing spaceport on the outskirts of the city. From this vantage point he could see the lights of the landing fields, greatly expanded over the last couple of years to handle the increased volume of traffic.
Paul looked up at the almost unflickering stars and thought of the worlds that circled them, planets from which so many pilgrims came to worship him. And he thought about how many of those worlds were even now the scene of bloody battles in his name. He wanted to close his eyes but knew that doing so would only bring dreams . . . that would give way to the frightening visions that haunted his soul. And also bring the voices. . . .
The Jihad progressed, his fanatical holy warriors spreading ever further afield, bringing destruction to many of the star systems in their path. Paul was wracked with guilt over what he had unleashed on the universe, but still could see no way to rein in the bloodthirsty hordes of his followers. Every solution he imagined led only to even bloodier visions of the future. He was near to despair, made worse by the certain knowledge that his own suicide or death would only intensify the horrors still to come.
“What can I do?!” he implored of the night.
“Perhaps you need counsel other than your own.”
The woman’s voice had come from the far end of the balcony, in the shadows that hid the door to the passage the guard had used. Had some spy or assassin managed to invade his sanctum? A Reverend Mother of the hated Bene Gesserit?
He strained but could see no one there. Then, slowly, as if coalescing from the darkness itself, a figure moved slowly towards him.
“Who are you?!” he challenged, but the woman said nothing and continued to approach. Something about the figure reminded him of the stately, green-eyed beauty he called mother—Jessica. But no, she was on Caladan and he had not seen her since he had returned there with her for a visit three years before. Finally the woman came to a place where her face was lit by the lights of the city below and she stopped. Although by no means old, the face he saw was lined with care. Paul thought to himself that she had probably possessed a classical beauty when younger. Her hair was brown but streaked with gray, and her eyes were piercing. She looked familiar, but he didn’t recognize her.
“My name is the least important of the things that I can tell you,” she said. “I can teach you of the art of jihad, which you desperately need to learn!”
“Who are you?!”
“Never mind that. We haven’t much time this time. You fret and worry that your army is but a horde of fanatics yet seem to forget that a force of fighting fanatics is able to overcome any number of enemy soldiers and weapons!”
“I worry because I have seen the future. I disturbed and awed. The masses-”
“And I have lived the past. To guide, to manipulate the masses who flock to your banner is the only way to defend what must be preserved. To oppose them is to become a rock on the beach, broken and worn away by the tide.”
“Who ARE you?!” Paul cried, growing exasperated.
“Have you not figured it out by now? I am Serena Butler, the mother of all jihads.”
"Chancho...sometimes when you are a man...you wear stretchy pants...in your room...alone."
"Politics is never simple, like the sand chigger of Arrakis, one is rarely truly free of its bite."
Arrakeen is an unawakened ghola.
"Politics is never simple, like the sand chigger of Arrakis, one is rarely truly free of its bite."
Arrakeen is an unawakened ghola.
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Oh for the bleeding cock of christ what is this?! Seriously what the FUCK is this?! Paul Muad'Dib is now a pussy and he seeks to learn the "art of the Jihad"? Isnt it stated in Dune Messiah that the Jihad didnt start by Paul, that it was the Fremen's fanatism of their Mahdi that lead them to attack any planets that would not submit to Paul's rule? Give me some feedback here.“Have you not figured it out by now? I am Serena Butler, the mother of all jihads.”
"But if self-replication can be considered a life-form, then intelligence should be, too.
The real problem is that "life" is such an unscientific word" - Masamune Shirow
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Re: Scan finished
Is that for real or did you make that up?SandChigger wrote:10,197 AG
Four Years After the Fall of Shaddam IV
So many lives within me, so many voices! A lifetime would not suffice to listen to them all!
—Paul-Muad’Dib Atreides, Meditations of an Emperor
Night had come to Arrakeen, replacing the searing bedlam and broiling clamor of the day with something of the cool silent serenity of the deep desert. And yet Paul could not sleep. He lay awake on the luxurious bedding beside his beloved Chani and waited until her soft, measured breathing told him she was asleep, and then he arose and quietly wrapped himself in a light robe of fine Terrinian broccato before stepping out onto the wide balcony adjoining their bedroom. He signaled for the guard at the far end of the balcony to leave and watched as the man disappeared into a secret passage behind a cleverly concealed door.
At last the Emperor of the Known Universe was alone and stood gazing down upon the sleeping form of the city he had made his capital. How different the face it presented now from that which sweated in the dust and heat of the midday sun. Arrakeen of Dune . . . the name itself was enough to make the hearts of devoted converts leap within their breasts across the Imperium. The daytime streets of the city were choked to impassibility with the pilgrims who flocked to Arrakis, millions every year, overflowing from the shuttles which travelled back and forth all day between the Guild Heighliners in orbit and the growing spaceport on the outskirts of the city. From this vantage point he could see the lights of the landing fields, greatly expanded over the last couple of years to handle the increased volume of traffic.
Paul looked up at the almost unflickering stars and thought of the worlds that circled them, planets from which so many pilgrims came to worship him. And he thought about how many of those worlds were even now the scene of bloody battles in his name. He wanted to close his eyes but knew that doing so would only bring dreams . . . that would give way to the frightening visions that haunted his soul. And also bring the voices. . . .
The Jihad progressed, his fanatical holy warriors spreading ever further afield, bringing destruction to many of the star systems in their path. Paul was wracked with guilt over what he had unleashed on the universe, but still could see no way to rein in the bloodthirsty hordes of his followers. Every solution he imagined led only to even bloodier visions of the future. He was near to despair, made worse by the certain knowledge that his own suicide or death would only intensify the horrors still to come.
“What can I do?!” he implored of the night.
“Perhaps you need counsel other than your own.”
The woman’s voice had come from the far end of the balcony, in the shadows that hid the door to the passage the guard had used. Had some spy or assassin managed to invade his sanctum? A Reverend Mother of the hated Bene Gesserit?
He strained but could see no one there. Then, slowly, as if coalescing from the darkness itself, a figure moved slowly towards him.
“Who are you?!” he challenged, but the woman said nothing and continued to approach. Something about the figure reminded him of the stately, green-eyed beauty he called mother—Jessica. But no, she was on Caladan and he had not seen her since he had returned there with her for a visit three years before. Finally the woman came to a place where her face was lit by the lights of the city below and she stopped. Although by no means old, the face he saw was lined with care. Paul thought to himself that she had probably possessed a classical beauty when younger. Her hair was brown but streaked with gray, and her eyes were piercing. She looked familiar, but he didn’t recognize her.
“My name is the least important of the things that I can tell you,” she said. “I can teach you of the art of jihad, which you desperately need to learn!”
“Who are you?!”
“Never mind that. We haven’t much time this time. You fret and worry that your army is but a horde of fanatics yet seem to forget that a force of fighting fanatics is able to overcome any number of enemy soldiers and weapons!”
“I worry because I have seen the future. I disturbed and awed. The masses-”
“And I have lived the past. To guide, to manipulate the masses who flock to your banner is the only way to defend what must be preserved. To oppose them is to become a rock on the beach, broken and worn away by the tide.”
“Who ARE you?!” Paul cried, growing exasperated.
“Have you not figured it out by now? I am Serena Butler, the mother of all jihads.”
They were destroyed because they lied pretentiously. Have no fear that my wrath
will fall upon you because of your innocent mistakes.
~Leto II, God Emperor
will fall upon you because of your innocent mistakes.
~Leto II, God Emperor
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You know, I once said the KJA/BH Dune books were bad like fan fiction. I take that back; they're WORSE than fan fiction. At least bad fan fiction can have gratuitous porn-esque sections which may induce an erection for about a second or at the very least a good, hearty laugh. The only bodily function the KJA/BH books induce is vomiting.
"What are we to call him, this Player of Games?"
"The books of Kevin J Anderson and Brian Herbert lie in a realm of uncertainty between self-conscious absurdity and genuine failure"
"The books of Kevin J Anderson and Brian Herbert lie in a realm of uncertainty between self-conscious absurdity and genuine failure"
Re: Scan finished
Confused? Most be blown away by the new "high gear" prose...Freakzilla wrote:
Is that for real or did you make that up?
Narf!
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Combine Herbert Ober Anderson Mercantile
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Re: Scan finished
Did they really capitalize ARE in "who ARE you?" as if they were yelling in a chat room?Mr. Teg wrote:Confused? Most be blown away by the new "high gear" prose...Freakzilla wrote:
Is that for real or did you make that up?
I think I'm going to be ill.
They were destroyed because they lied pretentiously. Have no fear that my wrath
will fall upon you because of your innocent mistakes.
~Leto II, God Emperor
will fall upon you because of your innocent mistakes.
~Leto II, God Emperor
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I'm still in awe at the 3rd grade grasp they have on Dune. PAUL IS NOT FUCKING PRE-BORN KEVIN! THE VOICES CANNOT THREATEN HIM.
Now if i was emphasizing that in a novel i would put it in Italics. You do actually send these to an Editor, yes?
I think the tag line here should be Paul wonders if the Orthodox Herbertians are going mad.
Yes we are, but not insane mad. Riot mad.
Be afraid.
Now if i was emphasizing that in a novel i would put it in Italics. You do actually send these to an Editor, yes?
I think the tag line here should be Paul wonders if the Orthodox Herbertians are going mad.
Yes we are, but not insane mad. Riot mad.
Be afraid.
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I was wondering about that too. Why is Paul hearing voices and seeing personas from his ancestry appear from thin air?Ampoliros wrote:I'm still in awe at the 3rd grade grasp they have on Dune. PAUL IS NOT FUCKING PRE-BORN KEVIN! THE VOICES CANNOT THREATEN HIM.
Now if i was emphasizing that in a novel i would put it in Italics. You do actually send these to an Editor, yes?
I think the tag line here should be Paul wonders if the Orthodox Herbertians are going mad.
Yes we are, but not insane mad. Riot mad.
Be afraid.
Is he supposed to be possessed or something?
They were destroyed because they lied pretentiously. Have no fear that my wrath
will fall upon you because of your innocent mistakes.
~Leto II, God Emperor
will fall upon you because of your innocent mistakes.
~Leto II, God Emperor
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Like I said over on Jacurutu, I'm betting that it is the real Serena, and Norma has something to do with this. I cant remembr if Serena was actually killed in the Legends books, or if they just make it look like she died. But with light in her face, and wandering around of rooftops, Im betting that she is corporeal.Freakzilla wrote:I was wondering about that too. Why is Paul hearing voices and seeing personas from his ancestry appear from thin air?Ampoliros wrote:I'm still in awe at the 3rd grade grasp they have on Dune. PAUL IS NOT FUCKING PRE-BORN KEVIN! THE VOICES CANNOT THREATEN HIM.
Now if i was emphasizing that in a novel i would put it in Italics. You do actually send these to an Editor, yes?
I think the tag line here should be Paul wonders if the Orthodox Herbertians are going mad.
Yes we are, but not insane mad. Riot mad.
Be afraid.
Is he supposed to be possessed or something?
Something is about to happen, Hal. Something wonderful!
-James C. Harwood, Science Fiction Writer, Straight (March 5, 1956 - May 25, 2010)
The Omphalos Umbrella Page
-James C. Harwood, Science Fiction Writer, Straight (March 5, 1956 - May 25, 2010)
The Omphalos Umbrella Page
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Nah, it's probably just the Hack trying to be theatrical, he knows his readers don't ponder stuff like this, but do like neat words like coalesce. I'm betting it's just supposed to be a hallucination from OM.Omphalos wrote:Like I said over on Jacurutu, I'm betting that it is the real Serena, and Norma has something to do with this. I cant remembr if Serena was actually killed in the Legends books, or if they just make it look like she died. But with light in her face, and wandering around of rooftops, Im betting that she is corporeal.Freakzilla wrote:I was wondering about that too. Why is Paul hearing voices and seeing personas from his ancestry appear from thin air?Ampoliros wrote:I'm still in awe at the 3rd grade grasp they have on Dune. PAUL IS NOT FUCKING PRE-BORN KEVIN! THE VOICES CANNOT THREATEN HIM.
Now if i was emphasizing that in a novel i would put it in Italics. You do actually send these to an Editor, yes?
I think the tag line here should be Paul wonders if the Orthodox Herbertians are going mad.
Yes we are, but not insane mad. Riot mad.
Be afraid.
Is he supposed to be possessed or something?
I deleted some of your posts because they were derailing the topic and not focusing on the issues asked, and instead going after the authors or their material. That's why. ~ BM
I agree that its probably from OM. At least I hope so.
However...Norma saving Serena and bringing Serena forward in time to teach Paul "Jihad for Dummies!" is just campy shitty enough for KJA to think its awesome. Time travel always wins with fanboys.
I hope Stilgar "takes Serena's Water"
I apologize to any who are offended for my increase in colorful metaphors. The more i learn about the new book the more i will use them.
However...Norma saving Serena and bringing Serena forward in time to teach Paul "Jihad for Dummies!" is just campy shitty enough for KJA to think its awesome. Time travel always wins with fanboys.
I hope Stilgar "takes Serena's Water"
I apologize to any who are offended for my increase in colorful metaphors. The more i learn about the new book the more i will use them.
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KJA is seeing too much the Children of Dune miniseries.Freakzilla wrote:I was wondering about that too. Why is Paul hearing voices and seeing personas from his ancestry appear from thin air?Ampoliros wrote:I'm still in awe at the 3rd grade grasp they have on Dune. PAUL IS NOT FUCKING PRE-BORN KEVIN! THE VOICES CANNOT THREATEN HIM.
Now if i was emphasizing that in a novel i would put it in Italics. You do actually send these to an Editor, yes?
I think the tag line here should be Paul wonders if the Orthodox Herbertians are going mad.
Yes we are, but not insane mad. Riot mad.
Be afraid.
Is he supposed to be possessed or something?
Deep in the human unconscious is a pervasive need for a logical universe that makes sense. But the real universe is always one step beyond logic.
-from "The Sayings of Muad'Dib" by the Princess Irulan
-from "The Sayings of Muad'Dib" by the Princess Irulan
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Research? I don't think he even READ it.Ampoliros wrote:no kidding. But with such a busy schedule can anyone blame him for not being able to full research each book.
YES WE FUCKING CAN.
They were destroyed because they lied pretentiously. Have no fear that my wrath
will fall upon you because of your innocent mistakes.
~Leto II, God Emperor
will fall upon you because of your innocent mistakes.
~Leto II, God Emperor
Freakzilla wrote:Research? I don't think he even READ it.Ampoliros wrote:no kidding. But with such a busy schedule can anyone blame him for not being able to full research each book.
KJA has explained in past interviews that he keeps up by watching dvds and the latest shows on tv. The result is obvious in his prose (what hasn't he pillaged from other scifi stories and franchises to write his version of dune).
YES WE FUCKING CAN.
Narf!
Combine Herbert Ober Anderson Mercantile
Combine Herbert Ober Anderson Mercantile