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Piers the handyman 2007
FeBlueberry 2010

We had a huge event in Citrus County Florida this month: Lucifer Hippopotamus turned 50. He's an honorary citizen so that he can share the Ellie Schiller Homosassa Springs Wildlife State Park with the native animals. He was born January 26, 1960, weighs 6,000 pounds, and is a vegetarian. What more can you ask? They made him a big birthday cake, which I think he ate in one mouthful. Who says things are dull here in the Florida hinterland?

My archery practice ranges from bad to worse. I score a plus point when I hit the one square foot center from 150 feet, and a minus point when I miss the two foot square target entirely. I have baffle targets surrounding it, as as not to lose too many arrows. These days I seldom have a positive score. The point is the challenge and exercise, not the score, but I would be satisfied to have some better scores. One thing I have found over the years is that the misses get wild in cold weather. I conjecture that the heavy clothing I wear on those days distorts my aim. Yet it seems to me that when there is a line of sight to the target, the arrow should go approximately where I aim it. It doesn't. On cold days the arrows from the right hand bow veer wide left, and those from the left bow veer wide right. I am talking about feet, not inches; I have measured it as far as five feet from where I aimed. I hold the bow loosely to avoid twisting as I loose arrows; it doesn't matter. So what is causing the veer? The day I wrote this paragraph the temperature outside was in the thirties, rising from the twenties. My scores were 1-8 right side, 0-11 left side, and the misses were not even close. Correcting my aim helps some; I have to aim off the target, but then the arrows either go where I aim them (about the only time), or veer so far that they still miss the target on the opposite side. I am baffled.

I finally started watching the videos I got months ago. One was The 10th Victim, which I had read as a story back in the 1950s as I dimly recall. The 1965 movie is about a future where the ultimate hunt is of human beings. So a prominent male hunter and a prominent female huntress face off, and naturally they get romantically interested in each other. It's okay, but the forty-odd years since the movie was made do date it, both technologically and socially. What they thought was sexy then is relatively dull today. The later Mr. and Mrs. Smith is similar in respects, and better, though surely derivative. I also watched Forbidden Planet, dating from 1956 when my fiancee (yes, I married her a few months later; and yes, it lasted) and I saw it. We were wowed. So how did it seem to me over 50 years later? Not bad, actually. Yes the special effects, then so marvelous, today are creaky, and yes, the pretty girl is mainly decorative, and background tends to be lecturesome. But what a story! The survivor of an earlier colony has discovered the remnant technology of an ancient alien civilization that grants enormous power. But a terrible monster from the id attacks. It turns out to be from the buried primitive human mind. This is what destroyed the aliens: their own primitive minds. It will similarly destroy the humans, if that technology is not destroyed first. That remains a concept to conjure with, fifty years later. Also, this movie introduced what become the Star Trek framework of a spaceship venturing to strange realms, and using beams to transport personnel. And Robbie the Robot, who was to go on to star in his own movie The Invisible Boy and a sloppy TV series. So this was a formative movie, and yes, a classic. I watched Johnny Got His Gun, said to be the most devastating anti-war movie ever made. Maybe that's why it wasn't available for decades. Well. I don't see it as necessarily anti-war, but it is a cruel story. Johnny is struck by a shell on the last day of World War One, survives, but winds up as a quadruple amputee without sight or hearing, locked in his own darkness. He relives his personal history, including memories of his girlfriend, whom we see briefly bare breasted. She comes to nurse him, and manages to communicate by sketching letters on his chest, spelling out words. Thus enabled to communicate, he begs to be killed. She tries to do it, a mercy killing, but is caught and banished. He must continue living, horribly imprisoned.

We also watched a current movie, Sherlock Holmes. It certainly had action, but I had trouble following the story. For example, he's having a drink with his girlfriend, then suddenly is tied naked on a bed, alone, and has to get out of that. Huh? But my daughter explained: girlfriend drugged his wine and played a trick on him. I just wasn't sharp enough to follow that nuance.

And we watched Avatar. Sure, it abuses coincidence, has unrealistic huge humanoid aliens, and is really a White man Merges with Natives story. The floating mountains must have been inspired by the art work of Patrick Woodroffe, who I doubt got credited. And a fan asked me why I didn't have a credit, because he thought it borrowed from my Cluster series, especially the last, Viscous Circle, wherein human beings occupy alien hosts and may indeed side with the natives. But the fact is that when you are in the science/fantasy genre you are inspired by a common pool of notions. Bluntly, I regard this as the best movie I've seen since Titanic, which I understand had the same director, so perhaps it is no coincidence. The man really does know how to make a movie, rare as that talent may be in the industry. Human adventure on an alien world, Star Wars type machinery, phenomenal effects, environmentalist theme, a central love story of human man and native womanI have written that kind myself more than once, and love it. This is my kind of junk.

I read Labyrinth of Fire by Keith Robinson. This is a sequel to the author's Island of Fog that I liked last year, a children's story. Okay, the protagonists are still twelve year old shape changers, but this is no pantywaist effort. It is realistic within its framework and hard-hitting physically and emotionally. The protagonist Hal can turn into a fire-breathing dragon, but he can't fly, which puts him at a severe disadvantage. Because real dragons can fly and have taken to eating people, and it is Hal's job to talk them out of it. Yeah, sure, like President Obama talking the Republicans out of filibustering his projects: lots of luck even if you don't get toasted. Hal also can't admit that maybe possibly he just might like a girl a little, Abigail; worse, she knows it. Remember, he's twelve. I recommend this novel for adults as well as children; it's not really juvenile. I have just one significant reservation: there are eight children, introduced in Island of Fog, and they are difficult to assimilate all at once. There should be a bookmark with them listed, or a listing of major characters and their abilities, so that the reader can get them straight without hassle. Meanwhile, try my solution: I folded the corner of page 17, where one paragraph lists each child and his/her alternate form. Then I had no trouble. And the author says he will make such a bookmark. www.UnearthlyTales.com.

I read The Ship of Ishtar by A Merritt. This is a classic, republished by PAIZO PUBLISHING as part of its PLANET STORIES series. (There's something I like about those P names; probably because P words have appealed to me ever since I was named Piers.) I remember as a child finding a book in the library I believe by the same author, Seven Footprints to Satan. I asked my mother whether that would be good, and she said, no it wouldn't interest me. So I know it would, and read it, and was fascinated. (Side note: I tried to look up A Merritt to verify my information, but he wasn't listed in my references, which are fairly comprehensive. That's weird. I guess fame really is fleeting.) I had heard of this one since way back, but never had the opportunity to read it. Ship of Ishtar was first published in 1924, a decade before my birth, in the stone age of modern fantasy fiction, and later republished with fine Virgil Finlay illustrations. Many of them feature lovely flowing-hair, bare-breasted young women. (Something I like about those, too.) This is a rollicking adventure, dated in style and mood and in references to race that might be expurgated today, but still a phenomenal story. John Kenton receives an ancient block containing a yard-long model of an oared ship. Then he gets drawn into its realm and is aboard it, participating in the action. Throughout the novel he gets involuntarily drawn back and forth between the ship and his room as the Goddess Ishtar toys with him, perhaps seeking to use him in her battle with the dark god Nergal. He falls in love with the beautiful warrior priestess Sharane, and struggles to win her love. The rest is sheer action, with a number of intriguing scenes. For example, when the dark lord sends his minions to attack the ship, the goddess responds by sending floating bubbles containing nude maidens. The warriors are quickly distracted, and the attack fails. I had some trouble getting into it, as there was a plethora of names, before it settled on the main theme, and I'm not sure the reason for protagonist's involvement was ever clarified. There are way too many exclamation points and incomplete sentences. So it is imperfect, in my view, but yes, an early classic, and I applaud PAIZO for making it available for today's readers. Paizo.com/planetstories.

A chore for Jamboree was to clear out the garage. There's stuff there dating back thirty years or more, despite our having moved here only 21 years ago. Long-time married folk will understand how that can happen. For one thing, there was the smell of a dead rat, and I wanted to locate it and get it out. Well, I shaped up the garage somewhat over the course of several days and found the rat, and a chain of thought took me to a story idea: this old man is cleaning his garage, and discovers this yellow box with a pill marked EAT ME, a vial marked DRINK ME, and a notebook marked READ ME. So he does, and finds himself in Xanth, with a magic talent. And I wound up writing Chapter 1 of Xanth #36 Luck of the Draw. Now you know what it's all about. No, I'm not writing myself into Xanth; he's 80 and fat and has to compete for the love of 16 year old Princess Harmony. In Xanth he's 18it was a youth potionbut my wife wouldn't let me have the love of a teen princess, for some reason. So this is how a chore leads to writing. I'll write the rest of the novel later in the year. I already need to revise the chapter, because of a reader suggestion.

I also wrote Rat Bait, to donate to eXcessica. I really don't need money, and they do. Solita's seven year old daughter Lita is afraid to spend another night in a new bed, so Solita sleeps there instead, to show her daughter there's nothing to fear. And the incubus comes after her, forcing her into horrendous, physically impossible sex, such as plumbing her gut a foot deep with his monstrous tongue, or filling her with quarts of burning semen. Nothing shows physically; it's all in the spirit. But it is nevertheless savage rape. So now she knows what her daughter feared. The problem is, how can she stop the incubus before he succeeds in capturing her soul and making her his sex slave forever? Well, maybe she can use spiritual rat bait, giving him something he likes but that slowly enslaves him, reversing the ploy. But that means giving him more of the sickening sex. This is about as sexually graphic a story as I've done. It will appear in a sexual horror anthology.

Sexual horror of another nature: in the health newsletter ALTERNATIVES I read that in one study one in four girls ages 14 to 19 are infected with a venereal disease, mostly chlamydia. Another study was of girls ages 14 to 17, with a similar figure. They start having sex between 13 and 15, and soon a quarter are infected. When they get treated, they tend to get reinfected in six months. They simply don't take precautions, and this can have lifetime consequences. I suspect that many are denied information about sex by the Mundane Adult Conspiracy, so go on the assumption that what they don't know won't hurt them. Ouch! The hell with so-called morality; those girls need to be educated before they reach puberty so they can protect themselves if they want to. Just-say-no strictures simply don't work, and it's way past time to find something that does work. Like maybe realistic classes in sexuality, and providing anti-venereal-disease kits. In the US Army in my day sexual advice consisted essentially of Don't do it, but when you do, use this condom and anti-VD kit. That's practical. There should be similar classes for boys, because obviously the girls are not getting much VD from each other.

And I wrote Inversion for The Horror Zine, which solicited me for a story. This is a short story about a young man who encounters a lovely girl who says she's an alien female doing research for a paper on the mating procedure of the human male. Well, now. But all is not quite as it seems. But it turned out to be too sexy for that market, so I wrote the science fiction Lost Things about a blind boy, a telepathic dog, and an invisible tiger. Naturally it's not that simple. That one the editor liked. They do more than horror, so represent a market for thoughtful science fiction and fantasy too.

I finally gave up on Kubuntu, and tried its parent Ubuntu as an operating system. What do you know: this one is complete, in that it has Games and other functions. I discovered that my main objection to it, years ago, has been abated: it is no longer limited to two or four Desktops or Workplaces, but will set up any number desired. So I set it for ten, and that's fine. It had the same balk on placing macros as Kubuntu does, but this time I tried saying Okay repeatedly, and after 15 times it let me continue the process, and I placed my macros. So that aspect is fine. The question is, how come the Ubuntu proprietors never discovered this glitch? Did they never try to place a macro? Did no one in their community ever try it, and advise them of the problem? Well, at least I found the solution: 15 okays in succession, per placement. Thereafter a reader, Scott M Stelle, advised me of a way to fix that: essentially it is to go to Tools Options, turn on Quickstarter, and turn off the Java requirement. But when I did that, it demanded at the macro outset that I turn Java back on, 15 times before it gave up. So the glitch remains. It doesn't need Java, but thinks it does, and still needs fixing. Ubuntu does back up material without balking, and generally functions well. It does have problems, however. I can't get my variant Dvor疚 keyboard on it, so am for now settling for their Dvor疚 despite 35 years touch typing on mine, but it doesn't like to let me have it. It says it's my default, but it lies. I have to reset, change it from indicated Dvor疚 to indicated standard, then change it back to Dvor疚. That gets its attention and it lets me have it. Again, doesn't any programmer actually try that feature? Even their Dvor疚 is much better than QWERTY. Ubuntu lacks some KDE features I like, such as the Move File and Move Paragraph commands, and Kubuntu gives me size and date specifics on the files I back up, in contrast to Ubuntu's just saying there's a file there. I like to know the size and dates of the files I replace, because sometimes one isn't exactly what you assume. When I check statistics it may show it in the wrong workplace, or simply hide it; I have to move to a different file window, then back to get it to show. No one at Ubuntu ever tried to find the wordage of a document? What are they doing in these regular six month updates, playing tiddlywinks? Once when I cranked up it lost the mouse cursor, and that is used for so much, like changing keyboards, that it made it nonfunctional. Why don't I go to the Ubuntu web site and advise them of the problems they evidently don't know about? Because of another problem: I can't get it to go online; it doesn't recognize my modems. That's another thing than should be corrected. My prior modem worked fine with Xandros: how come Ubuntu never heard of it? But it does have nice features, such as a better presentation of OpenOffice 3. Kubuntu has OO3, but its language, page number, sizing and similar indicators fade out and reappear only randomly, which is aggravating as hell. Ubuntu's OO3 keeps them visible and useful. Meanwhile it is nice having the games back, though it doesn't have the variant of Scorpion I like, or Grandfather. So I checked through and discovered Gypsy. I won the first game, lost 26 in a row, then won two. Why am I choosy about card games? Because I like to relax with them to relieve tension, and require the right degree of playability. Klondike is 99% luck; Free Cell is mind-bendingly devious. Gypsy is playable, with luck and skill interacting nicely. I have my foibles, such as when there's a choice of cards to turn over I always wonder about the one not turned, which might have been the one that would lead to a won game. Gypsy allows me to undo recent moves and try the alternate routes, picking the best one. I love that. Yes, the odds of winning seem to be about one in ten, but at least I get to try my utmost without straining my brain. So Ubuntu has its points, and I'm using it, for now. But like Miss Universe with hairy warts on her nose, I feel there could readily be improvements.

But you know, the Empire may strike back. Last column I remarked on how I might have fans at Microsoft being amused by my efforts to escape them. Sure enough, I heard from one. He described a keyboard layout revision program they have that sound like the old SmartKey I used in the stone age of personal computers, in the 1980s. It enabled me to redefine any and all keys, and I loved it. So if it comes to choice between my keyboard or Open Source, that will be difficult. I want to take our new Windows system online and check it out. If we could get it to go online. Apparently nobody who is anybody uses dial-up any more. So why do we? Because they don't offer broadband here. In our area, yes: they send us ads for it. But not for our house in the forest. Maybe they caught on to who I am, penetrating my mundane identity that masks my Piers Anthony identity, and are trying to suppress me. Maybe they just like to see me rant.

We had cold weather. Yes, of course it's winter. But this is Florida; we don't know what frozen water looks or feels like, outside the freezer. It certainly doesn't belong on the ground and trees. We had sleet collected on surfaces, and it took several days to melt. I keep informal records, and the first two weeks of Jamboree were a record for our tree farm, considering depth and duration. Our lowest low was 19F, bracketed by four other days in the 20s. Our record low, set in 1989, was 16, but that was only a two day plunge. This one took out all our cultivated plants and some of our daughter's plants she had brought for us to safeguard. Sigh; I misjudged the necessary precautions.

Incidental musing: when we grocery shop I notice what I call shopping cart diplomacy. If we see a cart left near where we park, we take it and use it. If someone is just finishing with one, we'll take it, saving them the trouble of pushing it back to store or cart parking site. No one fights over cart possession; it's to each according to his need. All is amicable. How nice it would be if international diplomacy were similar. If people could simply take what they need, without greed, and help others get what they need without jealousy.

Item from THE WEEK: a man has invented Roxxxy, a female sex robot who can speak simple sentences. I presume she never says no. I've had lady robots, such as Sheen (for Machine) in my Adept series and elsewhere, most recently in ChroMagic with Shee. They of course have all the good aspects of living women, such as nice breasts, and none of the bad ones, like fits of temper. And yes, I've had male robots too, that please women for similar reasons. Roxxxy costs $7,000: maybe when the price comes down a bit, like to $99, I'll be interested. Meanwhile Natalie Leotta told me of another effort in Mundania to catch up to my fiction, this time Under a Velvet Cloak, where I have a one inch cube that projects a keyboard and screen and makes a usable computer. This one is Light Touch, which projects a usable keyboard on any flat surface. Mundania is trying, but I think I'm still ahead.

Newspaper article: people speak of falling in love, but love is better when it's built deliberately. Find the ideal partner, then participate in joint activities that are conducive to the development of love. Makes sense to me. When I was in college I did look at relationships with my eyes open. I believed that if a relationship would work without love, than it was more likely to last with love. It did work for me. One of my story ideas is to have an ideal couple, maybe selected by parents, that does not want to love, and see how long the non-love lasts. Maybe some day I'll write it.

Another article about obesity says that experiments with monkeys showed that when the diet was controlled, none got fat, but when they were allowed to eat freely, some got fat and some didn't. So if genetics keeps you thin, fine, but if it doesn't, strict calorie control will work. In my family, my parents both got fat in the end, while my sister and I remain lean. Both of us watch what we eat, and exercise, so it seems to be discipline rather than genetics that accounts for us. My daughters did put on weight. Do I have discipline? Oh, yes; a writer needs it; it is as important as talent and luck. Anyway, I appreciate a comment Dear Abby made: ...food banks are struggling and American children depend on school nutrition programs for survival, while audiences view eating contests as entertainment. And that's more obscene than any X-rated movie will ever be... Amen. US NEWS & WORLD REPORT says that one danger is high-fructose corn syrup. A decades-long, 88,000 woman Nurse's Health Study found that drinking one 12 ounce can of regular soda (containing High-Fructose) daily boosts a woman's risk of later having a heart attack by 24%; two or more sodas a day raise that to 35%. I had a letter from a fan thanking me for calling attention to this common but deadly food additive; she eliminated it and her health improved. It is of course to my interest to safeguard my readers. It is appearing in yogurt, bread, everything; you need to read the ingredients to catch it. But if that effort spares you a later heart attack...

Maybe related: NEW SCIENTIST had a brief interview with the author of Catching Fire: How cooking made us human. He says our gut is about 60% of the volume it would have to be if we did not eat cooked foods. Adaptation to cooking seems to have occurred 1.9 million years ago, and that marks our divergence from the apes. We saved digestive energy and expanded our brain. It seems to have been a good investment.

That Burj Khalifa building in Dubai is 2,717 feet tall. Compare the Empire State Building at 1,455 feet. The Burj is magnificent. Whether it is a sensible investment for a financially troubled state I am not sure. Someone might fly an airplane into it.

THE HIGHTOWER LOWDOWN had a discussion making the case that ACORN's real crime is that it empowers the poor. That's why the fat-cat special interests targeted it. They tried that pimp and whore ploy on several offices. The staff in Philadelphia and Sandy Ego called the cops on them. In Baltimore they played along but took no action. The original tape was doctored. You know, like substituting a different question for the one answered. You can screw anyone that way. Is your name John Q Public? Yes. Then substitute Do you fornicate with pigs? and play that instead of the original, with the same answer. You think they didn't do that? They refuse to make the full original video available for verification.

The Large Hadron Collider is revving up. The hope is that, apart from my pet the Higgs boson, it will spot the neutralino and solve the mystery of Dark Matter. Stay tuned; I am fascinated by the search, and will keep you informed. (Would appreciation of Science, Magic, and the Liberal Outlook collapse if not for my Columns? Well...)

Here's a shocker: an organization called GiveWell analyzed leading charities, rating them in four areas: do they have their intended effect, are they cost effective, are they scalablethat is, can do equivalently more with more donationsand are they transparent/accountable, so anyone can see how they handle their money. GiveWell gave its top rating to just four charities: VillageReach, StopTB Partnership, Nurse-Family Partnership, and KIPP, which supports education programs in the US. Never heard of them? Neither had I. So what of the well known ones, like UNICEF, Oxfam, Red Cross, Planned Parenthood, and Christian Children's Fund? They essentially flunked. So when you donate...

Fox had terrific promotion for their new adventure series Human Target. We watched it. It's okay, not phenomenal, but fun watching. A full page add showed the hero clinging to a rope ladder dangling from a helicopter on fire while the derriere of a young woman scrambles inside. We didn't see that scene. I'd have liked to see more of that lady's bottom. Ah, well.

NEW SCIENTIST article on Consciousness not yet explained. I'm a fan of consciousness. The big three questions I'd like to have answers to before I die are why does anything exist instead of nothing, how did life come about, and the secret of consciousness. I think that it must be a kind of feedback circuit that, once fathomed, could be duplicated in a machine. Yes, robot consciousness, including subjectivity and feeling, like the machines in my fiction. But this article argues persuasively that we are unlikely to be able to define consciousness physiologically. It would be like calling love the interaction of glands, missing the essence. Maybe so, but I hope we can find a way to duplicate it outside of a brain.

Some conservative congressmen don't like the new whole-body imaging devices coming to airports. You don't have to look at my wife and 8 year old daughter naked to secure an airplane, Utah Republican Rep. Jason Chaffetz says. Ah, argues liberal columnist Froma Harrop, but we do. People are sneaking explosives aboard in their underwear. What good is privacy, if it enables terrorists to blow up planes? Harrop concludes: Let's set aside flights without such security procedures for them. We who submit will feel safeand they will take their chances. In all fairness, their 8-year-old daughters should be allowed to fly with us. And that might have the advantage that the idiot prudes would get themselves blown up on their unsafe flights, making way for more sensible congressmen. Unfortunately it's not that simple; terrorists are now planning to hide explosives in body cavities. Would the machine know whether it was shit in there, or plastic explosive? I would guess that some terrorists will swallow balloons-full of explosives. We'll need more than virtual nudity to stop that.

J D Salinger died, age 91. He was the author of Catcher in the Rye, the story of a teen rebel. I read it as a teen, as I recall, and found it effective. One thing I remember, over 50 years later, is how the censors protested the words Fuck You therein. Yes, the words were there. The protagonist saw them scrawled on a library step, so he labored to scrub them off, disgusted. If the censors had bothered to read the book before screaming, maybe they would have let it be. But censors do tend to be ignorant nuts. Like the trick definition: ignoranus = ignorant asshole.

NEW SCIENTIST ran a picture of EB, thought to be the most beautiful structure in mathematics. Well, I'd argue in favor of the Mandlebrot set, but certainly EB is one phenomenal picture, like a giant iris. As I have mentioned before, my future in higher math was stifled by ignorant high school language requirements, but I retain a certain distant appreciation.

And one more NEW SCIENTIST article. I do read other magazines, but it's my favorite. This one's on emotions. It seems that the standard set consists of Joy, Sadness, Anger, Fear, Surprise, and Disgust. Now they are finding others, like Elevation, Interest, Gratitude, Pride, and Confusion. Interesting. Love and Hate are not emotions? Maybe they are conditions.

Newspaper: They want to exhume Leonardo da Vinci's body to solve a mystery about the Mona Lisa painting. Huh? But it turns out that it does make sense. The suspicion is that he was a closet homosexual, and he painted himself as a woman with a secret smile. A study of the bones of his head could show whether they match the features of the painting. What a joke on posterity!

I try not to belabor my daughter's death unduly here, but it does remain on my mind. Maybe this will be the last mention. I was pondering, trying to decide after the fact what might have been Penny's happiest and saddest days. I could well be mistaken. She had her strong points and her weak points, and no one really knows the heart of another person. She said the happiest was when she got her horse, Sky Blue. Penny was then 10, and Blue was 15. I liked to say that Blue's business was raising preteen girls to teendom; she had done the same for her prior owner. I suspect another would be the day Penny got married in 1995. She organized it herself, a pagan wedding in her back yard. I escorted her to the tree, and suddenly she dissolved into tears. Of joy, I think. A third might have been when she birthed her daughter, our granddaughter, whom she nursed for more than three years. The saddest? I remember when the stray cat we adapted, Pandora II, turned out to be the perfect house cat. But she went out one evening and got run over. I had to tell Penny, then about age 6, and that was one of the awfullest scenes of my life. That first grief of death of a loved onehow do you ease a child through that? Then there was the loss of her garden, several years later. A neighbor had carelessly left the gate open, and the horse got in and ate it down. Couldn't blame the horse for doing what horses do. Penny spent something like three hours tearfully hoeing the ground clear to set up for another garden, working out her emotion, but it was fall and it simply couldn't be done. I hated that too. And I suspect a third was the discovery that her melanoma, supposedly cut out of her shoulder, had returned, metastasizing in force, a likely death sentence.

But let me conclude with a less ugly memory. Once when Penny was about twelve, she wanted to stay up late on a weekend night to watch a horror movie on TV. I explained to her that I was concerned that it would really scare her, but I let her choose. She watched it. Next day she said Daddy, next time I want to watch a scary movie, don't let me.

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