Man. I'm having the weirdest time with my laptop tonight. My post attempts keep evaporating before I'm through.

I'm glad to have found the Panic Room. I put my feet up in a comfy corner and popped open a nice, cold beer. I hope you can tell me about the Karma thing?

Thanks.

Well, I was halfway in a panic about whether I could have made a living as a professional writer even back in a day and age when people knew or cared how to read, or whether I've spent 40 years training to find I'm not good enough for a profession going the way of the dinosaur anyway, and then along came this book-burning guy!

Yes, scary. ...and the line from "The Pedestrain":

When asked by the mechanical police, "Business or profession?"

Mr. Mead says of his livelihood, "I guess you'd call me a writer."

"No profession," said the police car as if talking to itself.

(Ray Bradbury~again, prophetic.)

Butch, when I first read that story, long ago, that "no profession" line jarred me.
I've recalled it a lot since.

Thinking of the poor mad exiled wizards of Mars.

Ah, Dandy, one of my favourites. I just had to read it again last night. Mr. B's deep love for these authors and his deep concern for our atrophying imaginations really comes through. And what writing!

"The captain walked to a port. He smelled of menthol and iodine and green soap on his polished and manicured hands. His white teeth were dentifriced, and his ears scoured to a pinkness, as were his cheeks. His uniform was the color of new salt, and his boots were black mirrors shining below him. His crisp crewcut hair smelled of sharp alcohol. Even his breath was sharp and new and clean. There was no spot to him. He was a fresh instrument, honed and ready, still hot from the surgeon's oven."

Now that's writing!

I read the story yesterday, purely by chance, mind (it was the next story in the book I'm currently reading, The Illustrated Man), and was also struck by the writing and imagery.

A classic! But aren't they all?

Dentifriced is a good word!

Having read "The Long Rain" so many times, I was going to skip over it, but just glancing at the first page drew me in!
I always notice some new brilliance in his writing every time I re-read one of his stories!

Well put B-Two! Now, we just need to get Chapter-31 back here to make that "special" lemonade of his, you know the kind where you hear the tinkling of the ice and the sound of distant thunder which ushers eventual rain and a certain smile to your lips. Maybe we could just dispense with the lemonade and go straight for the dandelion wine perhaps....

“Spock on a trolley!” A couple years back I wrote a paragraph about the lonely theater lobby where there were no attendants and you used a card for everything. Well it’s here. Its called “Theater Tickets.Card”. Here’s a link to the paragraph:

https://raybradburyboard.com/eve/forums/a/tpc/f/67910839...211007161#1211007161

Hey, Chap! I thought you might still be here in the Panic Room somewhere. Was it really 2 years ago you wroe about the Lonely Lobby?
Anyway, glad you're back.
Did you bring your "Pogo" collection with you?

Yes, with Owl and Eyor—err, Albert and all the other natural born good ol’ U.S. of A gang. “I Go Pogo”. Pogo for president in '08! Walt Kelly rules!

Good! At Christmastime, let's have a flaming rum punch. No, it’s not cold enough for that. Not nearly cold enough . . . Wait a minute . . . wait a minute . . . I got it. Mulled wine, heavy on the cinnamon and light on the cloves. Well, whatever we have, we can all sing "Deck Us All With Boston Charlie"!

I vant a visky!