Uncle D. of Brookline was my kind of hombre.

I defy anyone on earth not to love him. He was an engineering professor at MIT and wore homburgs and Tyrolean hats with jaunty little feathers; he was mathier than Nilly and Emily put together, but he hadn't got the common sense God gave a goose; and he was devoted to ponderous '30s science fiction space operas and to his wives--not that he was a polygamist, but he was married twice; the first wife died as he was nearing 70, he nearly died of grief, and then he met a Dedham widow who was also dying of grief and they rescued each other. She once told me that he'd written her poetry while they were courting, and when I asked if I could see it she blushed. Apparently it was dirty. Also, he was the world's most magnificently awful stereotypical insane Boston driver.

I'm fairly certain he would've thought you were his kind of hombre too.

It was about a guy who wanted to meet Jesus so he traveled to the planets that Jesus had been to - each time he'd just miss Jesus.

I think I remember that story. It confused me because I couldn't understand why anyone would want to waste their time that way. I would have been traveling around and looking for Elvis.

The Bradbury thing. That was The Man, right?

It would explain all the churches in Mason City, IA.

There is no explanation for this. It is inexplicable. Give it up.

He was an engineering professor at MIT and wore homburgs and Tyrolean hats with jaunty little feathers; he was mathier than Nilly and Emily put together, but he hadn't got the common sense God gave a goose; and he was devoted to ponderous '30s science fiction space operas ...

I love this man.

We should get his book published.

If the Lensmen sagas made it to print, Uncle D is a shoe-in.

I need my 30's-style ponderous soap opera about an intersteller Masonic Jesus.

For note: I would rather re-read the densly packed pondersously ponderous 30's space opera than to ever read Dune again.

There. I've said it.

Ditto for re-reading ponderous 30's space opera vs some Hemmingway.

Daniel, if Andi wasn't standing in my way, I would so marry you. E.E. "Doc" Smith, Lensman and Vortex Blasters forever!

I need my 30's-style ponderous soap opera about an intersteller Masonic Jesus.

Me too. The text could even be aggressivley concise, like a Hemminmgway thing ...

The letter 'G' was on the door of the craft. There were calipers. I had fear.

Daniel, if Andi wasn't standing in my way, I would so marry you. E.E. "Doc" Smith, Lensman and Vortex Blasters forever!

Sail, you can have him. I want JZ's uncle D.

Hey!

Bloody hell. At least I'm alive.