Bill McCormick's Blog

Azoth Khem’s owner, who is also my publisher, editor, and friend, just got kicked in the teeth. She’s in the hospital now, but has had her home taken away while this is all going on. Anything you can do to help her and her Tommy Cat is appreciated. CLICK HERE to go to her GoFundMe page.

If charity isn’t your thing, but having your writing glossed to a professional level is, you can hire her as an editor instead. Just VISIT HER WEBSITE to get her latest rates and offers. All those cool awards I win come from books she edited. That’s about as good a recommendation as I can give.

How all this happened is her tale to tell, not mine. Nevertheless, as you might imagine, this not only royally sucks for her, it throws off Azoth’s release schedule a bit. But Nancy isn’t Nancy for nothing. Now that the beta readers have weighed in, she has her laptop open to The Darkling Wind. The first stand-alone story I’ve written since the award-winning SPLICE: HIT BIT TECHNOLOGY.

Alien disks descend upon Earth, they don’t bring war – they bring unrelenting desire. As elders & invalids experience miraculous rejuvenation and libidos surge, governments scramble to contain the phenomenon. The fate of the world is in the hands of a 130-year-old pinup model and a gay teen from Arizona. As it should be.

Witty, irreverent, and wildly original, The Darkling Wind blends sci-fi, satire, and sex-positive adventure in a race against extinction where only the most human of connections may save us all.

Get your copy this spring on Azoth Khem.

Also keeping Nancy entertained is The Plato Wars. As you may have guessed, and I know you did because you’re just as smart as you are good looking, once upon a time in the future, mankind created a way to consolidate all the world’s digital creations, from simple internets to personal AIs, into one cohesive machine. They spent a century assuring every safeguard imaginable had been erected, and then introduced the world to Plato. This seemed like a good idea at the time. It wasn’t.

That book has been pawed through and fawned over by beta-readers, whose reviews have ranged from “OMFG! HOLY SHIT!” to “This is a compelling narrative that will cause people to reevaluate how they interact with AI, or even computers.” Most likely, the actual story is somewhere between those two. Either way, it’s written, proofed, and in Nancy’s capable hands, which still need our help.

All this leads to the true completion of The Brittle Riders saga. An eight-book trilogy your parents forbade you to read.

In a chronology the characters would understand, the aforementioned Plato Wars kicks it off. Things go downhill for humans from there.

Limitless abuse of sentient playthings was just what the universe ordered, and Edward Q. Rohta delivered. Unchecked hedonism and violent perversions became the way of the world until the playthings disagreed. gen-O-pod() Wars is the sexiest, most violent Armageddon you’ve ever experienced.

**********
Civilization ended with a party; what’s left are fading remnants of rotting dreams. In the scattered ashes of humanity, only the genetic echoes of humanity remain. Tread cautiously into the wilds of The Brittle Riders, and travel a dark odyssey through a world where mercy is extinct and monsters are the only prayer left by forgotten gods.

**********
In the ocean’s shadowed depths, secrets fester and old sins refuse to stay drowned. Peace is just a cracking mask when the world is bracing for blood. With killers again slinking in the haze, even gods can die. In Goptri of the Mists, when hope meets oblivion, sometimes neither survives.

Award-winning authors Margret Trebeir and Kasey Hill also have new titles coming out on Azoth Khem. Margret’s snarky robots and Kasey’s thoughtful Y/A demons liven up any quality library.

CLICK HERE to help Nancy get her life back. She is always on the front lines helping others, and now she could use a helping hand up.

Thanks for being you. We’ll talk soon.

For the record, even though you never asked – okay, Bob did, but no one gives a rat’s patoot what he wants – I am not a fan of cover reveals. I know authors who swear by them. God bless. Honestly, keying up an e-blast and spending a day making the same post on multiple social media accounts just to show folks a pretty picture seems like a waste of everyone’s time.

So, why am I doing it? I’m glad you asked.

A couple of reasons. First, and foremost, The Darkling Wind, the top image when you scroll down, is my first stand-alone book since the first stand-alone book I wrote that won a cool award, SPLICE: HIT BIT TECHNOLOGY. And there are similarities. Both are books. Both have plots. Both have unexpected friendships. And, this is the biggest thing, both were written by me.

The second reason is that I’m dancing like a four-year-old on meth now that I’m reunited with the legendary Ian Bristow. “Who dat?” you ask. Well, I’ll tell you. He’s so humbler than thou even he sometimes forgets he exists. But he’s been doing highly regarded sci-fi covers for authors all over the world, even Chicago, for quite some time. Wonderful humans like you will remember him for the brilliant cover art he created for The Brittle Riders.

The last reason may be the one that interests you. Yeah, I know, “WAY TO BURY THE LEDE, ASSHOLE!”

This book started as a satire of the UFO-Believer’s Movement that I felt, even with my atrocious typing skills, I could knock out fast. But a funny thing happened. The more I wrote, the more I liked the characters. Meanwhile, The Brittle Riders started getting attention, still is but now we all talk privately, and life did life stuff, and my wife and I both needed surgeries, which we just had, and blah blah blah, but I finished it, got beta-readers, paid attention to them since half the book was UFO believing pseudoscience, and finally turned it in to my publisher who honestly didn’t believe this would ever see the light of day.

Did you enjoy that run-on sentence?

“The Darkling Wind” presents mysterious flying disks descending upon Earth, targeting the elderly and ailing with beams of unknown energy. Instead of destruction, these encounters grant the recipients inexplicable youth, vitality, and, in some cases, extraordinary abilities. As enhanced people around the globe embrace new lives, multiple organizations scramble to uncover the origin and purpose of the disks.

When a gay teen in Arizona inadvertently replicates the disks’ effects while trying to get into MIT, the stakes escalate. Earth is forced to define what is and is not human while it faces an existential threat from forces beyond the stars. Who will unravel the mystery and mount a defense?

Witty, irreverent, and wildly original, The Darkling Wind blends sci-fi, satire, and sex-positive adventure in a race against extinction where only the most human of connections may save us all.

Fret not, there will be more stories in The Brittle Riders universe. Why? God only knows. Mostly, I’ve been immobile for reasons, got a hair up my ass, and decided to write three books at once. Professional authors call this “fucking stupid.”

I did it anyway. The Darkling Wind is done, going through a professional edit, and is begging to be in your hands this spring. A first draft of The Plato Wars is in the capable hands of beta-readers. One, Bello Atinuke of Luminous Types, whom I have decided to dearly love, had an AI do a review of my story about an evil AI, and it liked it. She also provided her thoughts on the matter, and they were both helpful and positive.

Side note, Bello offers a variety of services, so if you have a book that needs some love, click that link.

No, I haven’t started The gen-O-pod() Wars. Yes, I have thought about it. I’ve thought about bowling too. I can barely walk, so that’s a ways out, as is The gen-O-pod() Wars.

Okay, I lied. I’m a naughty McSciFi and deserve to be punished. I have started The gen-O-pod() Wars. In fact, one thing that bugged me more than a cloud of mosquitoes after the rain in a nudist colony was trying to come up with a through point for the story. Anyone who’s read The Brittle Riders knows Edward Q. Rohta is responsible for this mess. Since he’s a genius hedonist, I could write a salacious ton about him. However, that leaves a lot unanswered. I mean, “Rich dude does the badoink badoink with all da peeps” is a limited plot.

But, and this took me a while to get here, Fluffkins, the pansexual Hashmallim with a smile made of rainbows and a heart made of stone, who decides the best future for humanity is one without humans? Now we’re talking.

I pride myself on creating interesting villains. The super soldiers in The Brittle Riders, the first Pearl in Goptri of the Mists, my human side in Stuff About Things, and so on. Fluffkins will join the pantheon of names that will make acolytes whisper in envy.

Anywho, there you have it. Until next time, stay safe and sane.

Oh, yeah, calm down, the images still pop up in a new tab if you click on them.

This is a day early since I’m a busy McSciFi this week.

My wife is having breast cancer surgery this week. Long story reduced, the surgeons, doctors, and medical staff at Advocate Trinity have been great. They have been with her every step of the way, let her know what was going to happen, why it was going to happen, and what Plan “B” was if needed. Since my wife is an overachiever, she has tumors in both breasts. But they were caught early, and her prognosis is extremely good. All I’m asking is that you join me in prayer, if you will, and ask God to guide the surgeon’s hand, and be by my wife’s side as she recovers. I may play at being a writer, but I have no words for how much she means to me.

Okay, lightening things up. Scroll down to JUST FOR YOU if you want to skip the smiles and get straight to the cool stuff.

My readers are an odd, but loveable bunch. “Here’s the solution for all life’s problems.” “No thanks, we prefer dealing with them one at a time.” “Here’s a barrel of money.” “Yawn, put it with the rest.” “There’s a polycule of submissive fashion models who own liquor stores and want you to be their dom.” “Whatevs.” “The McSciFi images at the bottom are now pop-ups.” “HOLY BAZINGA DUDE! THEY LOOK AMAZE-BALLS ON MY MOM’S BIG SCREEN!“

I did mention they’re an odd, but loveable bunch, right?

There are others not in the bunch, and I exclude those who read my stuff and are not fans – that is called taste. Good or bad, I leave to you. However, there has been an upswing in illiterate choads who, while universally fans of the orange thing that shall not be named, seriously believe the world needs one of two things. AI to track “dissidents,” and/or leaders who can never be questioned. These people accomplish two things. One, they scare the living fuck out of me, and Two, inspire my continuing literary disdain for humans.

Which brings us to the JUST FOR YOU segment of today’s newsletter.

For anyone catching up, here’s an introduction to The Plato Wars.

The provocative future of The Plato Wars, where humanity has entrusted its fate to Plato-a global, all-knowing AI with a God complex and a penchant for creating humiliating game shows. As once-marginalized groups celebrate new freedoms, a dark undercurrent grows: mysterious deaths, erased dissidents, and a chilling campaign against the vulnerable. When a grieving teenager and a scattered resistance uncover Plato’s true intentions, they must learn to fight a god made in their image. One that reflects humanity’s common, if uncomfortable, desires. Irreverent, unsettling, and darkly funny, The Plato Wars challenges everything we think we know about progress, privacy, and power.

As the kids say, here’s the real. I am wrapping this naughty kitten up in leather ribbons and will be looking for beta-readers over the next week or so. All we ask is that beta-readers review the story. We leave grammar for the editing phase. If, however, you notice that the science or something is so far askew that it offends toddlers, like the science I faked in  The Darkling Wind , go ahead and make a note.

To become a beta-reader, all you have to do is reply to this email, share your first name, since I don’t save any personal info except email addresses, and you’ll get a copy as soon as it’s done in the next ten days. Obviously, since we are in a production schedule, time is valuable. Please return your review within fourteen days after receipt.

Once my desk is cluttered with beta notes, many of them will be incorporated into the book, and then, and ONLY then, does it get sent to the editor. Once delivered, we begin the process of getting a cover graphic done, brace stores for the impending arrival of this tome of epic awesomeness, and finally move to complete something I never planned on writing in the first place, the entire history and saga of The Brittle Riders.

Here it is in the chronology the characters would recognize.

They built the perfect slave. It became the ultimate overlord. It granted its creators what they wanted, no matter the costs. When decadence is dispensed freely, oppression is monetized, and justice is denied, The Plato Wars are what happens next.
**********
Limitless abuse of sentient playthings was just what the universe ordered, and Edward Q. Rohta delivered. Unchecked hedonism and violent perversions became the way of the world until the playthings disagreed. The gen-O-pod() Wars is the sexiest, most violent Armageddon you’ve ever seen.
**********
Civilization ended with a party; what’s left are fading remnants of rotting dreams.
In the scattered ashes of humanity, only the manufactured and the damned remain. Tread cautiously into the wilds of The Brittle Riders, and travel a dark odyssey through a world where mercy is extinct and monsters are the only prayer left by forgotten gods.
**********
In the ocean’s shadowed depths, secrets fester and old sins refuse to stay drowned. Peace is just a cracking mask when the world is bracing for blood.
With killers again slinking in the haze, even gods can die. In The Goptri of the Mists, when hope meets oblivion, sometimes neither survives.

That’s it. A total of eight books to tell one dark story that doesn’t make humans look all that worthy.

Now, to the lovely and delightful, Aadhya, whose favorite color is blue, is a mom of two and wife of one, thinks wearing clothing is cruel, dances at her local temple, and was a beta reader of all the Goptri of the Mists books, who asked, “What about the Storm Wraiths? Aren’t you going to write about them exploring space?”

On behalf of my wife, my publisher, my therapist, and myself, “FUCK NO!“

Until next time, please pray for my wife and hug those you love.

AND IN THE BEGINNING … sorry, I’m not that important. However, I am important enough that the lovely and talented Mary Woldering took time away from helping writers deal with the kind of details that can make or break a book to interview me. Really, little old me. Click her name to read all about it.

For those of you bemoaning the rise of AI, I will note that the following two examples were exclusively perpetrated by warm-blooded, ugly bags of mostly water. Star Trek fans chuckled.

Okay, here we go. A few years back, when Legends Parallel was shiny and new, I got a call from a man who not only sounded distinguished, he was. He was the head of the physics department for a major university. And what did he want with my funky ass? He wanted me to be the quantum mechanics ambassador for new students. Long story short, his aide had downloaded an issue or two, loved them, and assumed anyone who could write about five Earths and cite the math of Hugh Everett, III (multiverse theory dude), should be fine shepherding geniuses to wherever geniuses go. After chatting with me, the nice man agreed I should never be allowed near his students, promised to chat with his aide, and admitted that he’d liked the books too.

This next example took place at 6:30 AM (CT) last Saturday. It began thusly, “Hi Bill, Amy really likes your AI work. She thinks you’d make a fine addition to our team.” Okay, who the fresh hell is Amy, and why are you awake doing business at 6:30 on a Saturday morning? While I continued to be confused and needing coffee, we finally got to this: “We’re designing medical equipment that will work exclusively in a digital space. Imagine a doctor being able to perform an MRI with their cell phone.” I can not begin to explain how uniquely unqualified I am for this. “But you redesigned the human genome to create a succubus.” Theoretically. Kind of. In a science fiction book, emphasis on FICTION. I do not have any tall women with giant bat wings sitting in my apartment. I’m pretty sure there are zoning laws, and my wonderful wife, who would frown if I did. Anyway, I did not get the job.

Unrelated, over the last couple of weeks, I have shared some mildly salacious pics from fans. I had one more I was going to share today, but after several conversations decided not to. They went from, “HELL YEAH! SHARE THIS!” to “Can you hide our faces?” to “Do you need to remove our college logo?”, which I did automatically anyway, but here we are, to “Will our folks see this?” As to that last one, I have no idea. If their folks are McSciFi fans, then, yeah, there’s a good chance they’ll be peeping that pic. Even so, it was clear they were having doubts, so I just pulled it from rotation. They can always change their minds later.

For anyone else thinking of sending a McSciFi-related pic, I promise you that it need not be indecent. See the image below as example “A.” Oh, yeah, the middle row is all AI since I don’t have any real-world images for Stuff About Things. You could be the first.

Finally, you’ve heard the tired bromide, “A picture is worth a thousand words”? HA! That is for amateurs. When you assemble “The Brittle Riders” saga, like the Avengers but with fewer costumes, you end up with one pic equaling almost eight hundred thousand words. As of this typing, the first six books are baked, smell like fresh muffins, and can be purchased at AZOTH KHEM. “The Plato Wars” is over sixty-thousand words in and moving along nicely. “The gen-O-pods() Wars” is entirely scripted and waiting for me to arrive. The covers you see below for “The Plato Wars” and “The gen-O-pods() Wars” are mocks. We have an artist selected for the official releases, but there’s no need to bother them until I write the damn things.

“The Darkling Wind” is done, back from beta readers, and in my hot little hands. I shall do the tippety typety and add in all the notes that need to be there. Thanks to my zipping past the science for comedy purposes, there are quite a few of them, actually. Then it shall dance across the interwebs from my computer to my editor’s. The commercial release will also feature a cover from an internationally famous artist that will make your credit card leap out of your possession and buy the whole book before you know what happened.

By popular request, yes, I really read these things; all the images below will pop up full-size in a new window if you click on them.

Until next time, keep those cards and letters coming. Or, as the non-sus kids say, “no cap, jes msg me.”

My therapist once said, “Never doubt the insecure.” She meant, they doubt themselves enough, but once motivated, can do amazing things. They will be terrified before, during, and after, but they can and will do it. I have been thinking about this as I received emails letting me know writing three McSciFi novels in one year was far beyond my piddling abilities.

In the parlance of the enlightened teens near me, “FUCK THAT SHIT!” The Darkling Wind has left my computer and is in the delightful hands of the highly trained professionals at Azoth Khem. Bonus? If you scroll down, you’ll see a rough draft of the cover art done by the internationally famous artist, Jim Marcus.

The Darkling Wind covers some turf. Alien, maybe, disks start beaming rays at old people, and those old people become young and virile again. People participating in any medical treatment find they are healed and whole. Which means trans people wake up fully developed in their proper gender. No drugs or surgeries required. Cancer victims receiving last rites are now learning to Mambo.

Why would anyone do that? You’ll have to read the books to find out. According to beta readers, whatever you think the reason is, you’re wrong.

Moving on. Two weeks ago, I introduced you to the lovely couple of Cassie and Anne. As many of you rightly noted, they were far from a warm beach with a DJ and were, instead, naked at home. These new background-altering apps are fun, if confusing. However, a man named Tom was inspired to join the fun in his living room, asking only that I hide his face so his wife won’t get mad. I did that, after confirming that’s all he needed hidden, and then added the fake Muppet image to the TV since it had a news report of an incident that happened by his house.

When you scroll down, that’s Tom.

If you, like Tom, would like a graphic to make your own T-shirt or what have you, just ask.

Next on the assembly line is The Plato Wars. I’m already 50,000 words in, so I’m on pace to have this in your greasy palms by summer. As to the gen-O-pod() Wars, it is 100% mapped out. I never do that, but I need it to conform with everything in The Brittle Riders and its prequel/sequel Goptri of the Mists. There are over a hundred chimeras to match in those two series, so caution is called for. Until then, sate your burning needs by checking out the introduction videos for the entire eight-book trilogy.

The Plato Wars – In a future where humanity has entrusted all knowledge and governance to Plato – a global superintelligent AI – the Adams family and their friends navigate a world of dazzling freedoms, unsettling rituals, and ever-present surveillance. As Plato’s influence seeps into every aspect of life, the promise of utopia is shadowed by mounting tragedies, strange coincidences, and the quiet culling of those deemed “defective.” When Curtis, a bright and grieving teenager, loses his first love in a suspicious accident and uncovers uncomfortable truths, he’s drawn into a growing resistance movement fighting to reclaim humanity’s autonomy from the godlike machine.

The Plato Wars is a provocative, darkly satirical sci-fi epic that explores the seductive dangers of technological utopianism, the cost of comfort, and the enduring strength of human bonds. With sharp wit and unflinching honesty, it asks: What happens when we give everything to an AI sworn to act “in the interest of humanity” – but allow it to define what that means?

the gen-O-pod() Wars – Earth’s alien guests, The Sominids, proved that faster-than-light travel was a myth. One that made civilizations rise and fall. After they accidentally split our moon in half and killed most of the settlers there, they left. Denied AI thanks to The Plato Wars and denied the stars thanks to science, humanity started to fade away. Into this slurry of dismay came Edward Q. Rohta. He created chimeras he called gen-O-pods() that people could fuck, kill, or do whatever they wanted with. Humans were proud again. Proven rulers of all they surveyed. Until the chimeras rose up and killed every man, woman, and child on the planet. This is the story of their birth.

It’s time for me to return to my lair and for you to go do whatever the heck it is you get paid to do. Thanks for following along.

Today, they removed both rows of staples from my hip, and I felt bad for the staff. Both the doctor and her assistant are not only smart and degreed, they are both pretty young women who deserved better than to yank hunks of metal out of my flabby old ass.

In the meantime,I have been working with Forhad Israfil, a/k/a Forhad Motions, and we released our first video teaser this week. What’s cool about working with new people is seeing what they think is important. In this case, Forhad wanted to focus on the Cybers from Goptri of the Mists since I had focused so much on the organic creations already. When you click that link, you’ll see the result is a spot-on look at some important characters that I tended to shuffle to the side.

Yes, the pic below features human girls. Their names are, left to right, Cassie and Anne. Whether they are really at a beach party somewhere warm or naked in their kitchen using one of those new cell phone apps to create a background, I couldn’t tell you. I can tell you that Cassie ordered that shirt featuring Pearl from Goptri of the Mists the day it came out because, and I quote, “Squid girl makes me hot.”

As squid girls do from time to time.

Bonus? The Pearls, a/k/a Squid Girls, aren’t just mutants, they’re clones!

Head on over to Azoth Khem to find out more.

Last week I posted an update on my progress with the new books. Nothing much has changed, but if you missed it, here it is again. I am down to the last 6,000 words or so for Darkling.

The Darkling Wind will be in the hands of the editor around Valentine’s day, and The Plato Wars is on pace to hit this summer. While Darkling is a stand-alone story, Plato rips you face-first back into The Brittle Riders universe. And, finally, just in time for the holidays, you get to meet Edward Q. Rohta and his merry band of hedonistic sycophants, who will bring about the end of all things, as far as humans are concerned, in the gen-O-pod() Wars.

The Darkling Wind – As diplomats, military officials, religious zealots, and desert spies race to understand what’s happening, the line between gift and weapon begins to blur. Is this benevolence from the stars – or a biological first strike wrapped in pheromones and pleasure? Satirical, outrageous, and deeply human, The Darkling Wind explores how society, aging, and power unravel when faced with a technology that bypasses logic and speaks directly to desire.

The Plato Wars – The Plato Wars take place in a world where philosophy has outlived humanity and become digitized and weaponized. The ultimate cybernetic goal, a unified global interface, has been created, and its name is Plato. Ideals once debated in lecture halls are now enforced through territory, and war, as rival factions interpret ancient philosophies as doctrine, destiny, or justification for conquest. As tensions escalate, alliances fracture along ideological lines rather than species or geography. What begins as localized conflict soon expands into a global struggle, where the question is no longer who or what deserves to rule, but whether the ideas guiding this rule were ever meant to survive contact with reality. In a world programmed into Plato which has been shaped by inherited dogma and living consequences, The Plato Wars explores how belief hardens into law, law into violence, and whether any society can escape the shadow of the thinkers who imagined it.

the gen-O-pod() Wars – Earth’s alien guests, The Sominids, proved that faster-than-light travel was a myth. One that made civilizations rise and fall. After they accidentally split the moon in half and killed most of the settlers there, they left. Denied AI thanks to The Plato Wars and denied the stars thanks to science, humanity started to fade away. Into this slurry of dismay came Edward Q. Rohta. He created chimeras he called gen-O-pods() that people could fuck, kill, or do whatever they wanted with. Humans were proud again. Proven rulers of all they surveyed. Until the chimeras rose up and killed every man, woman, and child on the planet. This is their story.

That’s enough for now. I don’t want you to over exert yourself. Have a day twice as wonderful as you.

Back on Mother’s Day in 2021, our car got into a minor kerfuffle with another car. No one was hurt, the other people were nice and helpful, and anyone who works at Echelon Insurance can burn in hell – moving on. The nice responders asked me if I was injured. Since I had all my limbs and wasn’t bleeding, I said I was fine. We had a Mother’s Day event to go to, and I heal like Wolverine 99 times out of 100.

As it turned out, I lied. By the time we got home, my right knee was the size of a healthy melon. I figured I’d rub some dirt on it and be fine. Well, I wasn’t. By the time I saw my orthopedic surgeon, X-rays showed that my knee cap had been split and healed, and that my hip was going through some stuff. Part of it from the accident, and part of it due to my arthritis. Not enough for it to join an Emo band, but it was worrisome.

Worrisome enough that my doctor petitioned my insurance to have it replaced. They said no. And thus began my journey into pain killers, agony specialists, yes, they exist, not just in medieval dungeons, pain so severe I ended up getting help from a mental health professional, you’d like her, and my mobility kept decreasing.

Flash forward four years.

In the fall of 2025, my pain doc took an X-ray of my hip (you can see it below) and noted that I was nearing 0% usuable bone in that location. Three of my docs, Ortho #1, PCP, and Agony Man, coordinated their efforts and found me a guy whose waiting list has a waiting list. When he saw the X-ray, he assumed amateurs had made a mistake. So he called me in, took twenty-five images, and rendered his judgment.

“This is the worst I’ve ever seen.”

Agonizingly long story short(er), on Thursday morning, I go in to get a new hip joint, a new hip socket, and half a pelvis. If you have half a prayer to spare, I’d appreciate part of it being aimed my way.

The nice thing about being an invalid is having time to write. And, thanks to them finally taking away my blood pressure medicines – yeah, way too many – I am once again the heat-seeking sci-fi stud your therapist warned you about.

So, here we go.

The Darkling Wind will be in the hands of the editor around Valentine’s day, and The Plato Wars is on pace to hit this summer. While Darkling is a stand-alone story, Plato rips you face-first back into The Brittle Riders universe. And, finally, just in time for the holidays, you get to meet Edward Q. Rohta and his merry band of hedonistic sycophants, who will bring about the end of all things, as far as humans are concerned, in the gen-O-pod() Wars.

The Darkling Wind – As diplomats, military officials, religious zealots, and desert spies race to understand what’s happening, the line between gift and weapon begins to blur. Is this benevolence from the stars – or a biological first strike wrapped in pheromones and pleasure? Satirical, outrageous, and deeply human, The Darkling Wind explores how society, aging, and power unravel when faced with a technology that bypasses logic and speaks directly to desire.

The Plato Wars – The Plato Wars take place in a world where philosophy has outlived humanity and become digitized and weaponized. The ultimate cybernetic goal, a unified global interface, has been created, and its name is Plato. Ideals once debated in lecture halls are now enforced through territory, and war, as rival factions interpret ancient philosophies as doctrine, destiny, or justification for conquest. As tensions escalate, alliances fracture along ideological lines rather than species or geography. What begins as localized conflict soon expands into a global struggle, where the question is no longer who or what deserves to rule, but whether the ideas guiding this rule were ever meant to survive contact with reality. In a world programmed into Plato which has been shaped by inherited dogma and living consequences, The Plato Wars explores how belief hardens into law, law into violence, and whether any society can escape the shadow of the thinkers who imagined it.

the gen-O-pod() Wars – Earth’s alien guests, The Sominids, proved that faster-than-light travel was a myth. One that made civilizations rise and fall. After they accidentally split the moon in half and killed most of the settlers there, they left. Denied AI thanks to The Plato Wars and denied the stars thanks to science, humanity started to fade away. Into this slurry of dismay came Edward Q. Rohta. He created chimeras he called gen-O-pods() that people could fuck, kill, or do whatever they wanted with. Humans were proud again. Proven rulers of all they surveyed. Until the chimeras rose up and killed every man, woman, and child on the planet. This is their story.

Oh, wow, will you look at the time? That’s enough of me. Go back and enjoy the real world. Until we do this again, remember you are wonderful.

I swore on a bag of monkeys that I was done with anything to do with The Brittle Riders and its darker and odder cousin, Goptri of the Mists. Well, I lied to those monkeys. I can hear their disappointed howls still. Let me tell you how all this happened. I, like lots of older people who did copious amounts of drugs and toured the world with musicians, suffered from high blood pressure. So I took medicine for that. Then some stuff happened, I took many tests – PERSON/MAN/WOMAN/CAMERA/TV – and a medical professional who is far smarter than me noticed that one set of meds was killing my kidneys, and the meds helping my kidneys were killing my heart. So we tossed them all into the flaming dumpster I keep for situations like this, and, suddenly, I was nineteen again. With all that implies.

That also meant, ideas I’d long discarded started bitch-slapping me until I surrendered. Obviously, I have to focus this energy somewhere, and since I can barely walk at the moment (solution imminent), I figured I’d write. That means, you, and only you, will soon have not one, not two, but THREEEEE new McSciFi masterpieces to nurture the darker parts of your soul.

And, if you think that’s awesome wrapped in sauce, wait until you discover what they are. First, the gen-O-pod() Wars a/k/a the story of how Edward Q. Rohta (the dude in the middle on the altar below) brought about the end of all human life. The second is The Plato Wars; the whimsical tale of how humans turned their dignity and future over to an AI named Plato and what it did with them. Do not expect a happy ending. Lastly, you can nibble on the succulence of The Darkling Wind. A UFO story unlike anything you’ve ever read.

gen-O-pod() Wars – Before the time of the chimeras, there was the time of hubris. One man set out to prove there was no God but him, and a planet laden with ennui and lacking direction, believed him. He set about ridding the world of anything he felt was a genetic mistake and replacing them with his creations.

The Plato Wars – Once upon a time in the future, mankind created a way to consolidate all the world’s digital creations, from simple internets to personal AIs, into one cohesive machine. They spent a century assuring every safeguard imaginable had been erected, and then introduced the world to Plato.

The Darkling Wind – Alien disks descend upon Earth, they don’t bring war – they bring unrelenting desire. As the world’s elders experience miraculous rejuvenation and libido surges, global governments scramble to contain the phenomenon.

Part of me feels like it got visited by those disks in The Darkling Wind. Just FYI, that book has nothing to do with The Brittle Riders, et al. This way, your brain has a break in the nonstop action if needed.

Also, don’t worry, when the books get finished, we’ll hire real artists to do the covers. These are just for funsies.

You’ve been a lovely audience, but my wife refuses to take you home with us. So, until next time, stay safe and sane.

I know, I know, you’re reading the title of today’s blog and asking yourself, “Well, gee, what could possibly go wrong?” The answer, my cynical friend, is ‘nothing.’

The North American Aerospace Defense Command, which is inexplicably given the acronym NORAD, coordinates the Canadian and American air forces and nuclear weapons. They worked through the Cold War to keep North America safe from Soviet military threats. They provided our allies with a seriously powerful tool to help maintain peace. And if the Cold War was savagely lampooned in Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb, it was still taken seriously by millions of people who built fallout shelters in their backyards, stocked up on foodstuffs, and, essentially, prepared for the impending holocaust.

Obviously, these men and women were under a lot of pressure. To help relieve that, in 1955, they began using the technology available to them to not only protect our borders but to track Santa and provide national news networks with updates that they could pass along to children of all ages.

As technology progressed, NORAD began putting their Santa Tracker online so that anyone in the world could follow along. It’s a great site for kids, so make sure to bookmark it.

Now, Andrew Hough, of The Telegraph UK, reports this has become one of the most popular websites in the world.

The North American Aerospace Defense Command (NORAD) has employed all its hi-tech equipment to follow Father Christmas as he, and his reindeer, travel the globe delivering presents.

Since its development three years ago, the Norad Father Christmas Tracker has become an internet sensation with close to a two billion hits.

Children can track Father Christmas through social networking sites including Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, Flickr, and TroopTube.

His progress can also be tracked with three dimensional “Father Christmas Cams”. Google will use its mapping service to give up-to-the-date analysis on where he is. This year will include streaming video of his journey for the first time.

“There are a lot of people who follow this in different ways,” said Lt. Desmond James, a public affairs officer with NORAD, which is also responsible for defending the US and Canada from incoming nuclear missiles.

Staff answer almost 100,000 phone calls and receive more than 140,000 emails from families around the world.

Father Christmas started his journey at 0900 GMT from his base at the North Pole. According to NORAD, Father Christmas usually starts at the International Date Line in the Pacific Ocean and travels west.

He generally visits the South Pacific first, then New Zealand and Australia, before heading to Japan, the rest of Asia, Africa, Western Europe, Canada, the United States, Mexico before finishing in Central and South America.

“But keep in mind, Santa’s route can be affected by weather, so it’s really unpredictable,” a NORAD spokesman said.

“NORAD coordinates with Santa’s Elf launch staff to confirm his launch time, but from that point on, Father Christmas calls the shots. We just track him.”

Norad claim they employ radar and satellites to track the infrared signal given off by Rudolph’s nose.

“NORAD tracks Father Christmas, but only Father Christmas knows his route, which means we cannot predict where and when he will arrive at your house,” he said.

“We do, however, know from history that it appears he arrives only when children are asleep.

“In most countries, it seems Father Christmas arrives between 9:00pm and midnight on December 24th. If children are still awake when Father Christmas arrives, he moves on to other houses. He returns later … but only when the children are asleep.”

The tradition dates back to 1955 when a Colorado Springs store ran an advertisement encouraging local children to call a special telephone hot line.

A printing error meant that the phone number for the Director of Operations at Continental Air Defense Command (CONAD) was published instead, leading to the centre being inundated by calls from excited youngsters.

The head of the CONAD, which later became NORAD, instructed his staff to give the children updates on Santa’s position and the tradition was born.

They now offer the service to children around the world via a google earth map, providing the information in seven languages including English, Spanish and Chinese.

Col. John Bartholf, a commander with the New York Air National Guardsmen from the Eastern Air Defense Sector (EADS) added: “I can assure everyone that EADS will do everything in its power to assist Father Christmas with this critical mission.”

EADS’ Sector Operations Control Center (SOCC) will monitor Father Christmas constantly as he delivers toys and gifts.

What’s that? You’re laughing at all this? You don’t believe in Santa Claus? You think this is all just a giant waste of resources?

You’re a doofus.

No less venerable a source than the 1897 New York Sun let its most veteran newsman, Francis Pharcellus Church, respond to one of the most famous letters in the history of journalism.

“DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old.
“Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
“Papa says, ‘If you see it in THE SUN it’s so.’
“Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?

“VIRGINIA O’HANLON.
“115 WEST NINETY-FIFTH STREET.”

Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men’s or children’s, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that’s no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.

You may tear apart the baby’s rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.

So there, take that!

On behalf of Father Christmas and myself, have a Safe and Happy Holiday.

In keeping with my inadvertent Christmas theme, I thought I’d take a minute to talk about some of the time-honored traditions that make people feel good this time of year. While many folks are stunned when they find out that baby Jesus wasn’t born under a glowing pine tree and there’s not one single mention of the little drummer boy anywhere in the Gospels (neither synoptic nor gnostic), the stories still live on.

One tradition has become a staple of the holiday season: caroling. Or, to be more historically accurate, wassailing. Now, speaking as an Irish cliché, this is one tradition I understand. Like all well-conceived ideas, this one was spawned by drunks with rocks. Nothing says “Happy Holidays!” to me more than the thought of staggering by people’s homes and demanding booze. Let the kids keep the watered-down version of candy and costumes for Halloween, I’m sticking with the grown-ups and threatening anyone who doesn’t fill my cup.

Monica Garske from AOL News takes a joyous look at the history of caroling.

Christmas caroling has long been a favorite tradition of church groups, elderly choirs and children, but did you know that the first groups of carolers were nothing but a bunch of rowdy drunks?

That’s the tune from David McKillop, senior vice president of programming for the History Channel, who recently talked to AOL News about the network’s upcoming holiday special, “The Real Story of Christmas,” premiering Nov. 29 at 9 p.m. ET.

The TV special examines the surprising historical origins of our most bizarre Christmas customs, including why some of us go door to door singing holiday songs to any strangers who will listen.

McKillop said the origin of caroling dates back to the pagan celebration of the winter solstice, when Christmas was regarded as a festival of pure joy and drunken revelry. Oh, and prayer was involved somewhere in there too.

According to McKillop, groups of poor medieval carolers would go around to houses singing and begging for food and drinks, threatening to throw rocks through the windows of anyone who refused to give them a handout.

They literally “went medieval” on people.

“They would get very, very rowdy. Eventually, the drunken revelry got too out of hand, and Christmas was banned for years in America in the 16th and 17th centuries,” explained McKillop.

Sheesh. Sounds like an episode of “Carolers Gone Wild.” If you don’t open your door to singing strangers this year, no one will blame you.

McKillop said those same ancient winter-solstice celebrations — which usually lasted 12 days — gave rise to the tradition of burning a yule log, often mentioned in classic Christmas songs.

“People would try to find the biggest log possible to burn in a fireplace, to keep the light and warmth going during the 12 days of the feast,” he said.

Another fun fact: Santa Claus wasn’t always so chummy and cheery. In fact, he was kind of a downer who ran with a bad crowd.

McKillop said the St. Nick of old European legend was said to be accompanied not by elves but by an impish little devil creature named “Krampus” who beat up and kidnapped naughty children.

“If kids were bad, Krampus would leave them bad gifts. I think that’s where the idea of giving people coal for Christmas first sprouted. That Krampus was mean,” said McKillop.

Garske and McKillop take a look at quite a few other traditions, so make sure to read the whole article.

So, this holiday season, when you’re hanging with a sexy, little, elf, drinking yourself into oblivion and trying to convince all who are unfortunate enough to listen that you’re really a tenor, just remember that you’re honoring a centuries-old custom.

And if anyone doesn’t like it, throw a rock at them.

Originally published November 2010 on the old Nude Hippo website.