There is a conspiracy afoot to thwart my attempts at acquiring navigation software for my new smartphone.

A year ago, I learned of the upcoming TomTom 7 navigation software. Screenshots and descriptions sounded utterly cool, so I decided to see if I could get my hands on a (legal) copy. TomTom customer service was less than helpful, so I gave up on the issue.

Then my eye was caught by the sublime navigation package iGO 8 by Nav’n’go. 3D landscape! Buildings! Overpasses displayed as such! Saving common itineraries!* PDA contacts automatically added as Points of Interest! The list of coolness went on and on.

Needless to say, I just had to get this software. So I studied the list of compatible devices and calculated when I could reaonably expect Vodafone to give me a new phone for freeish with my subscription renewal. On the list of compatible devices was the HTC Touch Diamond smartphone, a beautifully designed piece of electronics with touch screen, Google Maps, Youtube Mobile and more and more; a true geekfest. It didn’t have a slideout keyboard like it’s big brother the Touch Pro, but that one was not on the compatibilty list, and the whole point was to find myself a device that would run this epitome of navigation coolness, iGO 8.

Finally, The Big Day came. I renewed my subscription, payed a bit extra for the sleek black orgy of technology, the HTC Touch Diamond, and went online that same night to buy myself iGO 8.

So when after 81 days GUD sent me an email informing me of Prisoner of War’s 8th rejection, I wasn’t even that disappointed. After all, what’s a little artistic rejection when you have your baby’s sonogram as background image in your cool new phone?

Anyway, POW bounced right back out there, this time to the Catastrophia Anthology.

It’s different when it’s your own indeterminate, potato-shaped blob of white noise in a big grey wedge.

The sonogram lady placed the transducer on my wife’s belly, and without further ado, our tiny baby-to-be sprung onto the screen. Two miniature legs were clearly visible, folded against the abdomen; and one of the two arms actually seemed to wave at the camera. (Wouldn’t surprise me in the least.) The bit where the grey didn’t come into proper focus was the heart, beating enthusiastically. A miniscule nose was clearly visible.

With two routine clicks, the sonogirl measured 43,8 mm from head to tush, and thus set our baby’s prenatal age at 11 weeks*, the expected delivery date at November 18.

And then, with just one more simple click, she fixed a little yellow box on the screen at the location where the image wouldn’t focus, hit a button, and just like that, our baby’s heartbeat sounded. “Ka-thump-ka-thump-ka-thump-ka-thump-ka-thump-ka,” the loss of volume caused by our child deciding to become a bit squirmish and twisting away from the sound beam of the sonograph.

Our child has a heartbeat!

The rest of the session was spent gazing awed and moved at how our child twisted and moved every which way, demonstrating a marked aversion to having its picture taken—either that or it was showing off its talent for exercize. Though with our genes, that’s not very likely.

PS: For those exceptionally slow off the mark: I’m going to be a dad!

* The sonogram was a week ago today; I held off on publishing this until the first trimester was complete.

You thought Chinglish is bad? Try Frenglish!

There's a restaurant in the heart of the French Ardèche region, established in the impressive bowels of a medieval castle, where the staff are hospitable, the wine flows freely, and every single dish is a blessing for your tongue.

That is, if you actually manage to stop laughing long enough to order.

Among their many mysterious dishes are:

• Fryings of Joels
• Delight of the snail and thumbed sound of goat
• Jumped of pig to the farigoulette and his furniture
• Miller’s wife trout to penalties fries and his beef salad with parsley
• Terrine fat Liver of Duck to Belated Vintages
• Ravenous cheek Dips in the sauce White Butter
• Paving of Salom-coloured Roasted
• Tournedos Dips in the sauce Flaps mushrooms
• Mouse of Lamp Roast and His Juice of Thyme
• Salads of asparagus to the salmon smokes
• Laying of pork butchery
• Snails has her Provençale
• Assessments of net lamb
• Faisselle cremates chestnut

A facsimile of their entire menu (including the original French names of the dishes) is here.

How annoying. A Dutch Christian organization thought it necessary to distribute about 6,000,000 copies last week of a flyer arguing the relative value of creationism vs Darwinism. What a waste of paper, ink, effort, and energy!

Not that I'm against the flyer per se. After all, everyone is free to say whatever they want.

What annoys me is how they argue against Darwinism. In their eagerness to sow doubt about the validity of Darwin's brainchild, they have come up with the worst non-argument conceivable:

“Listen, people, it's only a theory!”

Worst thing is, they probably thought they were very clever when they came up with it. They may even have interviewed an evolutionary biologist. I imagine the interview went something like this:

But Professor, isn't it true that evolution is only a theory?” asked the Reverend.

“Reverend, that hasn't been a valid philosopho-scientific argument for a century,” the Professor replied.

“That's not an answer, Professor. Is evolution only a theory?”

With a frown, the Professor sat up straighter, and began counting on his fingers.

“Is nuclear fission only a theory? Is cancer treatment only a theory? Are Mendelian genetics only a theory? The essence of modern science, Reverend, is that we don't discover absolute truths. We discover facts about the natural world, and formulate theories to explain those facts, so every single thing we 'know' in science”--he marked the quotes with his fingers--“is a theory. A theory, I might add, that is valid as long as it hasn't been disproven, and gains predictive value with every empirical observation supporting it. I don't see the fact that the curative value of antibiotics is only a theory stop you from taking your pills when you have an infection, Reverend. Saying that something is 'only' a scientific theory--” again, his fingers marked the quotes--“is synonymous with saying it's science: a coherent explanation of the natural world, supported by a wealth of empirical evidence, and never disproven despite energetic efforts to that end!”

Here the Professor, who had gotten increasingly agitated as he spoke, sank back into his chair and drank deeply from his glass of water, before finishing with:

“Which is more than I can say for creationism!”

The Reverend was unmoved. His peaceful countenance threw up some doubt whether he had even listened to the Professor's brief speech.

“Yes or no, Professor: is evolution a scientific theory?”

“For God's sake, man, desist!”

“Is It?”

“Did you hear me at all? Yes, evolution is a scientific theory, as is--”

But the Reverend had already jumped out of his seat, beaming triumphantly, and revealing the recording device hidden under his robe.

“Ha!” he cried out, and whipped out his cell phone to signal the go-ahead for the first print run.

Religion doesn't bother me. I'm a great believer in freedom of speech. Even the abuse of a small forest for this inane and pointless purpose isn't that big a deal.

But willful stupidity gets me riled up every time...

The deed is done. After days and days of writing, editing, compiling, collating, formatting, cross-referencing, indexing, cussing and swearing, the 107-page Judging Report on the Paul Harland Prize 2008 is complete. Had I known what I was getting into, I might not have answered in the positive when 2008's prize organizer Wim Stolk asked me to relieve some of his burden by rounding off the Report.

But it's complete, it's as perfect as I can get it, and it's been distributed. A load off my chest.

And, of course, 60 eager contestants diving into the judge's comments on their stories. I wonder how much e-mail traffic that will generate...

Prisoner of war is rackin' em up! Its seventh rejection came from Orson Scott Card's Intergalactic Medicine Show (fondly known as IGMS), and it wasn't even a personal rejection.

But who knows, maybe it was destined for GUD all that time. I sure hope it was, for that is where it is now. I thought of submitting to either Cemetery Dance or Chizine (oops--I mean, rcloenen_ruiz suggested them at our excellent writing get-together with aliettedb last Saturday! why is it that whenever more than two writers get together, great quantities of excellent food are always involved?), but Cemetery Dance is closed for submissions until 2010 (!!!!) and Chizine tops off at 4,000 words. And POW may need some cropping, but culling 2,500 words is too much...

The bullet is through the church, as they say in Holland. Mynx will indeed be publishing an anthology of the best entries in the 2008 Paul Harland Prize (which I covered in an earlier post, as well as raving about one of the most talented entrants in another). And together with tireless PHP organizer and preselection official Wim Stolk, I will be editing this anthology. We have selected our final lineup, and I have the honor of calling every selected author this week and informing them that their stories will be published by Mynx this year. I'm very excited about starting the editing. There are some awesome writers in our selection, and I believe the stories are going to add up to an impressive showcase of present-day Dutch speculative talent.

Can you tell, by the way, how hard it is for me not to let slip any information about the selection? What I really want to say is that I will be editing, for instance, the marvellous fantasy story “   ” by  , which tells the tale of  , the , who     and then   . And then there's “ ”, an imaginative and emotional story by  ...

Oh, never mind. I'll talk to the writers first, then make an official announcement, and only then will I allow myself to enthuse about the stories here.

My mainstream flash fiction piece Rat in the Canal was rejected yesterday by The Kenyon Review.

Rats!

Insurers are supposed to be risk probability calculation experts. However, this news item in the free daily newspaper De Pers throws up some doubts:

Health care insurer Zilveren Kruis reports that the recent holidays have shown a 15% increase in skiing injuries in the 10-15 age group compared to the same period of 2007. The insurer recommends that children wear ski helmets to help prevent injury. The majority of injuries were lower leg and knee fractures.”