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Like the Man Says, An Embuggerance
Dec. 12th, 2007 08:20 pmTerry Prachett is diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimers.
Via James Nicoll
I have had two interactions with Terry Prachett: the first was at the food court in the Prudential Center Mall on the Sunday of N4, as we were standing in line together to get dinner in one of the few venues that still had food (silly mundanes, tell them and tell them that fans EAT, and they still won't stock up). I asked how he had enjoyed his Guest of Honorship, and he said it "was better than being poked in the eye with a stick."
The following year, I went to Minicon where he was GoH, and got his picture with Gus, the real Fun Guy. Prachett was quite entertained by Gus, and asked what was in the jar with him. I told him it was liquid acrylic, and Prachett said "Oh, so he's dead." I suggested that "dead" was a relative term, and Prachett proceeded to do a brief excerpt of the Dead Parrot Sketch, with "fungus" substituted, then said "Reciting the Dead Parrot Sketch and singing "The Lumberjack Song" are two of the prerequisites for becoming a British citizen."
He's a great guy, and an excellent writer. While it is probably less than charitable to say I can easily come up with a list of authors I'd rather see suffer this fate, I sure can. One hopes the wonderful world of medicine can help alleviate, if not completely halt, the effects. At least he's not at the tender mercies of Blue Cross/Bullshit and (in)Humana.
Via James Nicoll
I have had two interactions with Terry Prachett: the first was at the food court in the Prudential Center Mall on the Sunday of N4, as we were standing in line together to get dinner in one of the few venues that still had food (silly mundanes, tell them and tell them that fans EAT, and they still won't stock up). I asked how he had enjoyed his Guest of Honorship, and he said it "was better than being poked in the eye with a stick."
The following year, I went to Minicon where he was GoH, and got his picture with Gus, the real Fun Guy. Prachett was quite entertained by Gus, and asked what was in the jar with him. I told him it was liquid acrylic, and Prachett said "Oh, so he's dead." I suggested that "dead" was a relative term, and Prachett proceeded to do a brief excerpt of the Dead Parrot Sketch, with "fungus" substituted, then said "Reciting the Dead Parrot Sketch and singing "The Lumberjack Song" are two of the prerequisites for becoming a British citizen."
He's a great guy, and an excellent writer. While it is probably less than charitable to say I can easily come up with a list of authors I'd rather see suffer this fate, I sure can. One hopes the wonderful world of medicine can help alleviate, if not completely halt, the effects. At least he's not at the tender mercies of Blue Cross/Bullshit and (in)Humana.
