Brevity is relative

No insomnia last night, so I must be writing effectively. Lots to do, however, so let's make this a short post. (Is that mocking laughter I hear in the background?)

And what's shorter than news links? Here's a contest for the truly nerdy among us: write a fanfic of 500-2000 words explaining how an Orc-John-Scalzi came to be pursued by Wil Wheaton in a clown sweater, with a lance, riding on the back of a unikittehpeg (that's a flying kitten with a single horn in its forehead, in case you aren't nerdy enough). Yes, there's a picture. It's all based on the picture. Prize is publication at ten cents per word and a bunch of books from Subterranean Press. Proceeds from the chapbook in which your story is published will go toward curing lupus. Did you know Louisa May Alcott had lupus? That's why she died so young. That, and relentless overwork. It's a sucky disease. I have no affiliation with any of these people and I'm probably physically incapable of writing a story in less than 2000 words, so I'm just passing word along.

Also passed along, Do Not Wear Calvin Klein's Obsession for Men in jaguar country! It attracts them. Who knew that overpriced "designer" (yeah, I'm sure Calvin Klein personally learned chemistry to develop this odor in his basement lab, right next to the sewing machine) fragrances could be a boon to science?

Meanwhile, the importance of cleaning your workspace regularly and examining papers before throwing them out is highlighted in a story about a teacher who found a document from 1792 in a pile of old textbooks.

But, to remind us that we're all fiddling while Rome burns, we learn that snake populations are crashing and no one knows why. What, you don't like snakes? Lets see how you feel about them after rats eat up all your corn! Predators get a bad rap. When the snakes are all gone, no unikittehpeg is going to swoop in and save us from the rampaging order rodentia.

There. That's short, by my standards. I may post on Sunday, or I may be too tired from archeology to do anything else, in which case, see you after the 17th! (Or, no, wait, I can't see any of you. You'll see me.)