Meta, Meta, Meta

I've been trying to make up something amusing to write about John Scalzi's post, yesterday, whose title proclaimed that he can handle bad reviews. (Backstory: I posted a mixed review of Redshirts here a few weeks back, which may have been one of the things that triggered Scalzi's "maybe you shouldn't read my books if you don't like them" post. And I hasten to repeat that I didn't consider that a "bad review" or that I dislike reading Scalzi's books.)

But it kept coming out too snarky, as if I was calling out Scalzi or insulting him. And that's not the case: I agree with his sentiments in both of those linked posts, even as I demur on the actual claim of my not-liking-his books. (Perhaps I don't like them sufficiently, but that's the way I am on most things: tepidly critical.)

So, instead, I'll just note that I attempted to make a joke, decided that I couldn't do it the way I wanted, and point in the direction of the joke that I didn't make. For that failure, I'm going to blame the fact that I spent the whole day constructing a series of big spreadsheets (pretty much out of my own head) for a Big Meeting tomorrow, and that my brain is tired. Perhaps I will be amusing tomorrow.