Fantasist’s Scroll

It’s the birthday of science fiction writer Ray Bradbury, who was born in Waukegan, Illinois on this day in 1920.

Bradbury is one of the most famous and well-known science-fiction writers of all time, having written a number of classics.
The story goes, that one night, Bradbury was out for a walk when a policeman pulled up on the side of the road to ask what he was doing. He said, “I was so irritated the police would bother to ask me what I was doing — when I wasn’t doing anything — that I went home and wrote [a] story.” That story became a novella called “The Fireman” and eventually grew into his first and best-known novel, Fahrenheit 451, about a man named Guy Montag who lives in a future world in which books are outlawed and burned wherever they’re found. Montag is one of the firemen whose job it is to burn the books. One night he takes a book home that he was supposed to destroy and reads it. The act of reading persuades him to join an underground revolutionary group that is keeping literature alive. Ironically, when film-maker Michael Moore used a similar title for his movie, Fahrenheit 9/11, Bradbury, who didn’t agree with Moore’s politics, sued him, trying to stop his use of the title, and squash free speech.

Ray Bradbury said, “I don’t try to describe the future. I try to prevent it.”

Today is Ernest “Papa” Hemingway’s birthday.

He was born in Oak Park, Illinois in 1899. Hemingway snuck off to fight in World War I when he was just 17. He had bad eyesight, so he volunteered as an ambulance driver for the American Red Cross in Italy. Just about a month after he got to Italy, he was hit by shrapnel from an exploding shell. He spent weeks in the hospital and then came back home to his parents in Oak Park.

After his parents got tired of him hanging around, he started writing stories for Chicago newspapers and magazines, and then got a job as a foreign correspondent for the Toronto Daily Star and went off to Paris with his wife Hadley. He became friends with a lot of writers who were in Paris at the time, including Fitzgerald and Joyce and Pound and Gertrude Stein. And he wrote every day, sometimes in his apartment, sometimes in cafés, but he wrote every day.

His first collection of short stories, In Our Time, came out in 1925 and the following year, his first big success, Sun Also Rises. Three years later, Farewell To Arms came out. By the 1930s, he was one of the best-known writers alive. He developed cancer and, in true “Hemingway hero” fashion, killed himself with a shotgun in 1961. But, by then, he was one of the most recognizable people on the planet.

Today is Ernest “Papa” Hemingway’s birthday.
He was born in Oak Park, Illinois in 1899. Hemingway snuck off to fight in World War I when he was just 17. He had bad eyesight, so he volunteered as an ambulance driver for the American Red Cross in Italy. Just about a month after he got to Italy, he was hit by shrapnel from an exploding shell. He spent weeks in the hospital and then came back home to his parents in Oak Park.
After his parents got tired of him hanging around, he started writing stories for Chicago newspapers and magazines, and then got a job as a foreign correspondent for the Toronto Daily Star and went off to Paris with his wife Hadley. He became friends with a lot of writers who were in Paris at the time, including Fitzgerald and Joyce and Pound and Gertrude Stein. And he wrote every day, sometimes in his apartment, sometimes in cafés, but he wrote every day.

His first collection of short stories, In Our Time, came out in 1925 and the following year, his first big success, Sun Also Rises. Three years later, Farewell To Arms came out. By the 1930s, he was one of the best-known writers alive. He developed cancer and, in true “Hemingway hero” fashion, killed himself with a shotgun in 1961. But, by then, he was one of the most recognizable people on the planet.

Freaky.
While I don’t reccomend fishing for giant catfish with a basketball lure, it does seem to work. At least, if the pictures posted at this link are any indication. I know people have a hard time believeing me, but I met a guy who was a diver in Illinois who talked about these giant, mean catfish in the Mississippi. Apparently, all the nice, warm, waste water from power plants and what not pouring into various dammed parts of the river can produce catfish up to six feet in length. That is a GIANT catfish! And, as a rule, these suckers hide in the muddy, murky bottom just waiting for a tasty morsel to swim by. According to this guy, they seem to like the taste of diver. He described to me how he had to beat one off his arm with a small log because it was trying to pull him under a submerged tree where it lived.
Holy shades of the X-Files!

Today is Ernest “Papa” Hemingway’s birthday.
He was born in Oak Park, Illinois in 1899. Hemingway snuck off to fight in World War I when he was just 17. He had bad eyesight, so he volunteered as an ambulance driver for the American Red Cross in Italy. Just about a month after he got to Italy, he was hit by shrapnel from an exploding shell. He spent weeks in the hospital and then came back home to his parents in Oak Park.
After his parents got tired of him hanging around, he started writing stories for Chicago newspapers and magazines, and then got a job as a foreign correspondent for the Toronto Daily Star and went off to Paris with his wife Hadley. He became friends with a lot of writers who were in Paris at the time, including Fitzgerald and Joyce and Pound and Gertrude Stein. And he wrote every day, sometimes in his apartment, sometimes in cafés, but he wrote every day.

His first collection of short stories, In Our Time, came out in 1925 and the following year, his first big success, Sun Also Rises. Three years later, Farewell To Arms came out. By the 1930s, he was one of the best-known writers alive. He developed cancer and, in true “Hemingway hero” fashion, killed himself with a shotgun in 1961. But, by then, he was one of the most recognizable people on the planet.