In honor of the Slayer (If the First Evil can only take the form of those who are dead, why can it appear as Buffy?) here is an excerpt from one of my all-time favorite books:

He should be able to knock [the last chapter] off in an hour or two, and that would leave the early morning for proofing and final corrections, which need not be too extensive. Some post-teen English major enslaved to the publisher to proof copy could go through and make sure that Runewind's horse was not black on one page and brown on another. Really, he didn't know why they bothered. The demented fans who read the series had hours of fun devising plausible explanations for his sloppiest screwups. They would churn out endless articles in their unreadable mimeographed excrescences trying to explain why Runewind's sword changed lengths or why his mother was known by two different names. So far, the two likeliest explanations -- apathy and Chivas Regal -- had not been suggested.

-- Bimbos of the Death Sun by Sharyn McCrumb

I caught myself doing this -- rationalizing the irrational -- when I was reminded of this passage. All Sci Fi fans should read this book. It is hilarious and kind of painful -- like the truth. The sequel, Zombies of the Gene Pool, is also wonderful, but it’s a little different kind of book.