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In Which I Speak at Length About Something I Don't Understand

Ok, blogging world. It's just you and me this morning. And I have been on a sleep deficit since Friday. So just imagine this entire blog entry in the stumbly voice of a drunk. Because that's what it would sound like if I were reading it aloud.

Late last night when I couldn't sleep, I asked people on twitter (I am @flubdubs, by the way, o ye fellow twitterers) to name an author for me to blog about today. I got a few answers, and I toyed with the notion of writing a story where they all hung out, possibly at a lake, riding in several swanboats while shouting witty things to each other. But I am too tired. So instead I'm going to write an ill-informed article about Ray Bradbury.

Ray Bradbury is someone I thought was dead. But according to Wikipedia, he is not dead, he is just very very old. I also thought he was a supporter of polyamory, but it turns out I was thinking of Robert Heinlein (who IS dead, so if I were writing this article about him, I would've been right twice so far instead of wrong twice).

According to Wikipedia, Bradbury wore dorky Carl Sagan glasses and smiled in a vaguely awkward way. He also wore ugly '70s suits, but I cannot verify if he only did this in the '70s, as I am not going to go out of my way to do a google image search. What? You really want me to? Ok, fine. For you, I will do this.

Tan suits: the nerd's choice

Oh right, that's not a recent picture of him, that's a picture of him and Carl Sagan. Here's a more recent picture:


This is clearly the greatest man ever
 Also, those look like pretty much the same glasses as in the '70s, so good job, sir.

Bradbury wrote Fahrenheit 451, which is actually a super-kickass book that I love a lot because Mildred Montag and her three TV walls make me feel guilty whenever I watch Law & Order: SVU for 12 hours straight. He also wrote The Martian Chronicles, which apparently is a short story collection about "the colonization of Mars by humans fleeing from a troubled and eventually atomically devastated Earth, and the conflict between aboriginal Martians and the new colonists."

*re-reads synopsis* Hey, that sounds pretty good.

Bradbury was married for 56 years and never got a driver's license. Unless Wikipedia's bullshitting me, which it has been known to do. Some people love him and some people hate him, so really he's like every human being ever.

Fellow Bloggers, we should totally pick authors we've heard of but know nothing about for each other to write blog entries about. Also my workplace should have a nap room, but it doesn't, because it's not cutting edge. Damn you, Everything!! *shakes fist*
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