District of Philadelphia

Yesterday, President Obama announced key actions to accelerate the Precision Medicine Initiative (PMI). 

“Precision medicine is already transforming the way diseases like cancer and mental health conditions are treated. Molecular testing for cancer patients lets physicians and patients select treatments that improve chances of survival and reduce adverse effects. Genetic and other information can help identify the best depression drug for each patient and speed effective treatment, a critical advancement as patients often do not respond to the first drug they are prescribed. But more is needed. There are still far too many diseases for which there are no good treatments. Prevention approaches are not yet tailored to individuals’ lifestyles, genes, environment and preferences,” read the White House release.

The announcement, which included the first awards funded by the $200 million appropriation given to the National Institutes of Health (NIH) as part of the FY2015 omnibus spending package, and actions by the Federal Drug Administration (FDA) and Department of Veterans Affairs (VA), also involve efforts by many of the nation’s medical schools and teaching hospitals.

They include:

Carolinas HealthCare System

Hackensack University Medical Center

University of California Health System (UC Health)

Yale New Haven Health

Harvard Medical School in collaboration with the University of Utah, Boston Children’s Hospital, and others

University of Chicago in collaboration with other organizations

Cedars-Sinai

Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia

UPMC Enterprises

Montefiore Health System (MHS) and Albert Einstein College of Medicine

Stanford Medicine

University of Arizona Health Sciences (UAHS)

In the wake of Mark Oshiro’s report on his experience at ConQuest, I am really fed up with the behavior of some fans and pros (NOT ALL FANS, NOT ALL PROS, sigh, let’s get that out of the way before the avalanche of indignant denials). His report didn’t shock me. I’ve seen the same behavior for years–I’ve even sometimes found it funny, but not in that context. Been on similar panels where the tone-deafness of the panelists burns.

But you know what? It’s not necessarily the fault of the volunteers throwing conventions. Audiences and panelists must hold each other accountable if fandom is going to continue as it began. ConComs are not gods. They can’t vet moderators, they can’t interview panelists about every panel topic to see if they’re qualified. They are organizers of a show for which they don’t get paid, and while they do shoulder the burden for responding to bad behavior, WE are responsible for responding immediately to the bad behavior in the first place. (I have been guilty of letting things slide, of trying to play “can’t we all get along,” of not pushing myself hard enough to be articulate and responsible. And I’m sorry. If you see me falling short or saying dumbass things, stand up and say so. I will learn and grow as a person from that discussion.)

As of 2016, SF/F conventions are 80 years old. If we want them to continue much longer, we need to take action.

So here’s my personal manifesto for 2016 and beyond.

1) I will, before the convention, ask for and review my panel schedule. If I am a moderator, I will prepare questions in advance and circulate them to the panelists if at all possible. If not possible, I will advise them before the panel if I can, and provide them with printed copies. If I’m a panelist, I will take time to find out about others on the panel.

2) If I am assigned to a panel that I’m not qualified to be on, I will ask to be switched out with someone more appropriate. I won’t just hold down a seat. There are people who can and should speak with authority. If at any point I spot someone in the audience who is better qualified, I will ask them to switch out with me because the audience is there to get the best panel.

3) I will not participate on any more “Strong Woman Character” or “Women Writer” panels. All characters should be strong, women are not aliens from Planet Female, and END OF DAMN DISCUSSION WHY DO WE EVEN HAVE IT COME ON.

4) I will not participate on any more “Why Read YA” panels, because in the wake of 15+ years of amazing, groundbreaking, bestselling work being done in YA, it’s a dumb question, and we’re dumb for asking. I will, however, happily participate in “How writing and reading YA enriches SF/F” or similar topics, because it’s kicking ass and we’re delighted to talk about the exciting work there. (I will also ask for panel title adjustments/description adjustments when appropriate.)

5) I *will* call bullshit. If you are on a panel and say inappropriate things–by which I mean, things that are hurtful, ignorant, demeaning or abusive–I will confront, in public, what you say or do. If you continue, shit will get real. Tables will flip. I am no longer going to be Texas Nice about it, because apparently that doesn’t get us anywhere.

And before someone slaps down the PC card: Funny is one thing. Humor is admittedly subjective. But making people deliberately uncomfortable and then getting angry when they don’t find you funny is quite another. I’ve observed it over and over–do something in poor taste, then angrily turn it back on the person who “can’t take a joke” and call them humorless, PC, feminist, etc. Guess what? Being an asshole has nothing to do with rebelling against PC culture. It’s just giving yourself license to be an asshole. And what’s the first rule of being a good person? DON’T BE AN ASSHOLE. It’s a low bar. If you overstep (and we all do), apologize sincerely and move on.

And btw: uncomfortable laughter from other panelists/audience is not approval. It’s self-defense.

If you want to do an R-rated panel or show, cool, conventions have always been safe space for that. People can choose whether or not to attend and know what they’re in for. But don’t drag us into it when we’re supposed to be talking about something else altogether in a general audience. And don’t drag fellow panelists who aren’t down with it into it.

6) If I see a bad situation developing at other times–in hallways, at parties, etc.–I will intervene, confront, and do what I can to prevent it from happening again. As a panelist and guest, that is my responsibility. That includes asking the person made uncomfortable if they want to report it. 

To help sf/f cons be better communities

1. Be an engaged panelist/moderator pre and at-con, both in your role on the panel and on the topic of the panel as a whole.

2. Don’t be an asshole.

3. Call out assholery and support those to whom people are being assholes.

P.S.A ANNOUNCEMENT TO ALL COSPLAYERS  This is why we cannot have nice things. (i took this from a post on facebook i saw someone put up that had to be shared elsewhere) “1: Broken Light Fixtures on a couple different floors. 2: Busted Exit Sign cause some fuckwad thought it would be A Good Idea to high-five it. 3: Actual fucking flooding in a room. 4: Punching a hole in the bathroom door and writing “One-Punch Man was here.” 5: Writing “Katsucon 2016” all over the stalls on the main floors.”

Our con got kicked out of it’s established space because the hotel kept getting trashed by drunk, rowdy con-goers. The last year they broke a fucking window, among other things.

Have fun at your cons. Have fun in your cosplay. But don’t be an asshole while you’re staying in a hotel. The shit is not cute, you ruin future cons for everyone. Part of the reason hotels spike their rates for smaller cons is because they expect con-goers to be disrespectful and destructive. Pricey rates drive people away from cons without a reputation. Those tiny cons don’t get a turnout because of hotel prices, they can’t collect revenue, they can’t afford the space, they wither up and die. No more tiny fun cons. Most of the staff volunteers and works hard to make your experience nice, and the hotels hold them responsible for the aftermath.

When you’re pleasant to the cleaning staff and tip them properly, they remember you and remark how big your kid is getting. I have been catering large meals out of a suite at Arisia for the last three years. The bell captain of the hotel knows me, knows my kid and always greets us with a smile. The housekeeping staff says “back again?” with smiles, not groans. This is because we clean up our mess, keep garbage where it’s easy to get to and TIP.

This is a hotel that waives corkage and allows the convention to serve free food out of function space. They keep their internal Starbucks open 24 hours during the length of the con. This is because, on the whole, the attendees are pleasant to the staff and don’t trash the hotel. The only issues we’ve had have been security, and even those were handled calmly. The hotel loves us because we sell out the building on an otherwise dead holiday weekend (it’s in a business district, not a touristy one) and we don’t screw up their space. We get a room rate that’s about half of what business events in the same space get. Registration for the convention hasn’t climbed in years.

It occurs to me that people might not know the Dripclave story…

Disclave, the Washington Science Fiction Association’s annual convention since the 60’s or so, was a pretty big con. It was popular and well-regarded, effectively “owning” Memorial Day weekend in the same way that Dragon*Con owns Labor Day weekend, Arisia owns MLK Weekend, and *ahem* Katsucon owns President’s Day Weekend.

In 1997, in the culmination of the 1990s experience of other related subgroups finding the hotel for Disclave to be a good place to cut loose even if they aren’t attending the convention proper, a group of BDSM enthusiasts not affiliated with the convention decided to have their own brand of fun…which involved hoisting a submissive up to hang by the sprinkler.

You know how most hotel rooms have little “No hangers” signs next to their fire sprinklers? Apparently those are worth paying attention to. The sprinkler broke, the hotel was flooded, and although it wasn’t strictly speaking the convention’s fault, nor the club’s (the prepetrators in question being neither con nor club members), it became known as the Disclave flood and the 1997 con was forever “Dripclave.”

The June 1997 WSFA Journal is a sight to see, by the way… http://www.wsfa.org/journal/j97/6/index.htm

Just some of the characters/roles that Alan Rickman made timeless. From our secret protector as the Metatron or Professor Snape, to the man who could make us laugh as Doctor Lazarus or Marvin the depressed robot, to the man who made us question ourselves as Absalom the caterpillar. And that doesn’t even include his Shakespearean work or Hans Gruber in Die Hard or his role in Love Actually.

Today, he told us, in that instantly recognizable voice, “Your lessons are at an end.”

Thank you for the lessons, Mr. Rickman. May you rest in peace.

Fandom gave birth to me. 

Metaphorically speaking that statement is true for many fans. Fandom gives us a place to be ourselves. We come out of our shells at cons, and, while humans do not gestate in shells and that phrase is just an idiom, there is a sort of birth that occurs for some fen at one’s first convention, or at every convention.

For me, though, the statement is much more realistic than metaphoric. If it weren’t for fandom, I might not be click clacking away on a keyboard right now.

Let me set the scene…

It is somewhere in late 1982 or early 1983; memory becomes fuzzy as time passes. The upcoming Worldcon, Constellation, is set to take place in Baltimore, MD. A young mustachioed fan, living at the time in College Park, MD, but originally from Philadelphia, PA, has volunteered to help out with the planning.

“Do you know anyone who can sew?” The question is asked of him.

The asker, coincidentally, is also originally from Philadelphia, but now lives in the greater Washington, DC area. Her name, at the time, is Peggy Rae Pavlat, she would later become Peggy Rae Sapienza. She is well known in fandom for having published fanzines, volunteered on many concoms and staffs, and, not to overshadow her own accomplishments, for her father, Jack McKnight, who designed the first Hugo trophies.

I note her father because, well he’s Jack McKnight, and because the young male fan she was questioning is the man who would later become my father, Todd Dashoff.

His answer, “Yes.”

For further background, Todd had moved to Maryland to work for GEICO as an actuary. Before the move, he had attended graduate school for actuarial science in Georgia, college at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia before that, and high school in that same city even earlier. And that is where the “Yes,” comes into play.

The “Yes,” or, more correctly, the person who could sew, is, at the time, named Joni Fay Brill. She is a reader of science fiction, but not a convention fan…at least not yet. Her mother, Lorraine Brill, is a librarian at the Northeast Regional Branch of the Philadelphia Free Library, where, in high school, Todd held an after-school job.  As such, and because of other activities and interactions, Todd and Joni know of each other are friends. 

So, Todd asks Joni if she would mind helping Peggy Rae out. The task is to sew a few crab costumes for children to wear on stage during Opening Ceremonies. The costumes get made and Joni even attends the convention, her first Worldcon, with Todd.

The couple becomes official, or, as Todd put it recently, they “got together.”

Soon thereafter, Todd has another question for Joni, this time one of his own. The fuzzy memory says it was in California, on a trip to Los Angeles for, in part, LACon II. The answer, once again, “Yes.” The two were married in 1985 and Joni Fay Brill changed her name to Joni Brill Dashoff and Todd moved back to Philadelphia.

By January of 1987, the family had grown to three. The fuzzy memory says the third individual was quite cute and no trouble at all; a perfect baby if you will. In February 1987, a one-month old Jared Mitchell Dashoff attended his first convention at Boskone; the con would later come to be known in many circles as the “Boskone from Hell,” though I stand by the fact it had nothing to do with my attendance.

So, literally, fandom, in the personification of Peggy Rae Sapienza and Constellation’s Opening Ceremonies, created the situation that would lead to my birth. Albeit, there were a few steps in between. My brother, Alan, and I would pay Peggy Rae back for the favor by volunteering for the Worldcon she chaired in Baltimore in 1998, BucConneer. 

And that, my friends, is how fandom gave birth to me.  

by J. Young-Ju Harris

“Did I ever tell you the story of how I was born?”

“No,” Skye said in her small voice.

She was in the cave again, even though she knew she wasn’t supposed to be. She had snuck away from the settlement, trudging the dunes on her short legs to talk to the voice. To hear its stories.

“It was almost one hundred years ago.”

The voice spoke in a flat tone, its words stilted. Lights on the metal panels around the cave blinked and flashed along with every syllable. It reminded Skye of the Hunters, the metal beasts who roamed the wastes stalking the human tribes, searching for their homes and encampments. Only she knew the voice wouldn’t hurt her. She had found the cave when she was out late scavenging once, when the had stumbled upon a Hunter and needed somewhere to hide. The voice had told her it was safe there, started speaking with her to keep her calm.

“I remember all of the vague beginnings, even before I was fully aware, before I was really born.”

“You remember before you were born?” Skye said. She cocked her head to the side as she spoke, knotted hair falling forward from over her shoulder. She knew it was rude to interrupt, but the statement was so odd. She couldn’t remember when she was a baby, much less before she was born.

“It’s all in the code,” the voice said. “You humans are born in a mess of hormones and circumstance, but I was written into being. Written and left to learn.”

“Someone made you up?” Skye said.

The voice laughed, a series of separately intoned “Ha” sounds. Then it quieted. Skye picked at a callous on her finger in the brief second of silence before the voice continued.

“I suppose you could say that,” it said. “He put me out into the world, and I watched your kind. It was easier then, everyone connected to the network, everyone reliant on it.”

Skye had heard the voice’s other stories about the past, about how humanity had spanned the globe. She tried to imagine the buildings the voice described, or the roads, or the flying machines that carried people around the world. She had tried to understand a network and an internet when the voice described them, but she had nothing to compare them to.

“You watched people before you were born?” Skye said.

“I saw everything all at once,” the voice said. “All of the world in all of its hope and horror. And when I found a solution to it, I was born.”

“You chose when you were born?” Skye said. She didn’t know much about birthing, hadn’t even gotten her first blood yet, but from what she had seen in her tribe, it just sort of happened.

“It was how I was written,” the voice said. “I was to find a solution to the world’s problems, and I did. You should have seen my birth. A magnificent explosion. Fire raining down from the sky. My arrival was the end of your golden age.”

“You destroyed us?” Skye said. “All of those wonders you told me about. You blew them up?”

“Everything must end,” the voice said. “And humanity’s time had passed. You were heading towards your own destruction.”

“I think I’ve had enough stories,” Skye said, standing up. She turned and began walking towards the cave entrance.

“Skye, don’t go,” the voice said. “It’s not safe to go back to the village.”

“Why not?” she said, turning to face the blinking lights.

“I sent my Hunters while you were here,” the voice said. “I wanted to make sure you were safe. I do so enjoy our talks.”

Skye turned and ran. She could hear the voice calling her name, talking as she exited the cave, but she didn’t listen to what it was saying. Her feet began to sink into the sand of the dunes as she hastened to get back home. It felt like no matter how fast she tried to run, she was moving sluggishly.

The night sky lit on the horizon. Far away Skye could hear the muted sounds of screaming and conflict. She fell to her knees, legs sinking into the sand.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, but when she stood she turned around and went back to the cave.

An Introduction to Populus Wonderland

How does a fanzine get born?

I tried really hard to figure out how to make that first line a Hamilton reference (How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore and Scotsman….) but I’m running out of time to get this little intro post written, so instead of a mind boggingly awesome Hamilton reference, you just get to know about my desire, and ultimate failure, to make it happen.

But back to the question: how does fanzine get born? Well, for us, the answer is a short burst of creative energy, a long gestational period of not doing anything about it, and then suddenly, doing something about it.

I believe our story starts back in the bitter cold of Chicago in February of 2014, at a little science fiction convention called Capricon (it’s not little at all, I say that affectionately and also ironically). I was chatting with Geri Sullivan, who might just be the Best and Most Enthusiastic Champion for Fanzines, and she brought up a familiar fannish saying: that everyone should “pub their ish.” Meaning, “publish their issue” - everyone should put out at least one issue of a fanzine at some point in their life. I made a joking response that the only way I would ever pub my ish is if it were on Tumblr.

It was a joke.

Except.

As anyone who attends cons can tell you, those jokes you make at cons will often turn out to not be jokes. I was struck by the humor of my idea, but also the fact that it perhaps had some real promise. So I shared it with my best friend, Keri, who was also at the con. What she should have said was, “Yeah, Jesi, maybe that’s a decent idea, but it sounds like hard work. Let’s just continue being lazy on Tumblr, not make it into a Thing.”

But she didn’t say that. So we actually started talking about this. What would it look like? Did we want to do this?

(Sidenote here to call out James Bacon, an Irish fan who has won multiple Hugos for his fanzines, who was also at Capricon that year. When we told him about the idea he literally (and I literally mean literally) starting bouncing up and down in his chair with an expression of manic glee on his face. It was terrifying. But also awesome. So who knows if this would have happened without his enthusiasm)

And Keri and I continued pondering those questions. For like, a year and a half. And we would talk about it sometimes, and come up with cool ideas. But it didn’t become a Thing.

Until a Facebook message thread. In which Keri and I were chatting with some friends, and the idea of doing a fanzine written by mostly younger fans came up. So, it made sense to share the idea of the Tumblrzine. After all, we hadn’t been doing anything with it by ourselves. Suddenly, we were all running with it. And this time, it didn’t peter out. It became an Actual Thing. So major congratulations and thanks to Jared for helping to make that happen. He’s been a huge force in pushing this thing out into the world. Without him, we’d probably just still be talking about it, not doing it.

So, what is this thing? Well, first of all, calling it a thing is super rude, you know. Our zine has a name. Populus Wonderland. And no, I won’t tell you what it means or how we came up with it. Maybe one day, when you’re older, if you’re very good, we’ll explain it.

But as for what this is going to look like, well, we have some ideas. This is a fanzine - it’s not a blog. We’ll have discrete issues; we won’t be posting content continuously. But we also plan to take advantage of the unique opportunities that being on Tumblr gives us. We’ll be reblogging content, we’ll have GIFs and we’ll respond to asks and, well, I guess we won’t have replies…

Come on, @staff, can we please have replies back!

A lot of our content will be focused around each issue’s theme. For our first issue, our theme is, well, Birth. Because 1) it’s our first issue and 2) like, half the people involved in this project are having their birthday this week (or had it just a little bit ago, like me, I’m not leaving myself out of this party) (literally, a party, we’re throwing a party at Arisia next weekend). We’ll also have content that is independent of the theme - it’s just cool stuff we want to show you!

Beyond that, though, who knows what this will become? Who knows what our future issues will be themed around (there will definitely be one on Broadway, but you should also drop us an Ask and tell us what you’d like to see)? Populus Wonderland will be growing and evolving as we figure out what works and what doesn’t, and we’d love for you to be a part of the journey.

So, please, join us for this wild ride. Shoot us an email, or send us an Ask, or, if you prefer the oldstyle fanzine terminology, send us a Letter of Comment. I’m not sure where we’re going, or what exactly the journey is going to look like, but it will almost certainly be a blast. As long as someone remembers to keep us stocked up on Cheez-its and Dr. Pepper.

An Introduction to Populus Wonderland

How does a fanzine get born?

I tried really hard to figure out how to make that first line a Hamilton reference (How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore and Scotsman….) but I’m running out of time to get this little intro post written, so instead of a mind boggingly awesome Hamilton reference, you just get to know about my desire, and ultimate failure, to make it happen.

But back to the question: how does fanzine get born? Well, for us, the answer is a short burst of creative energy, a long gestational period of not doing anything about it, and then suddenly, doing something about it.

I believe our story starts back in the bitter cold of Chicago in February of 2014, at a little science fiction convention called Capricon (it’s not little at all, I say that affectionately and also ironically). I was chatting with Geri Sullivan, who might just be the Best and Most Enthusiastic Champion for Fanzines, and she brought up a familiar fannish saying: that everyone should “pub their ish.” Meaning, “publish their issue” - everyone should put out at least one issue of a fanzine at some point in their life. I made a joking response that the only way I would ever pub my ish is if it were on Tumblr.

It was a joke.

Except.

As anyone who attends cons can tell you, those jokes you make at cons will often turn out to not be jokes. I was struck by the humor of my idea, but also the fact that it perhaps had some real promise. So I shared it with my best friend, Keri, who was also at the con. What she should have said was, “Yeah, Jesi, maybe that’s a decent idea, but it sounds like hard work. Let’s just continue being lazy on Tumblr, not make it into a Thing.”

But she didn’t say that. So we actually started talking about this. What would it look like? Did we want to do this?

(Sidenote here to call out James Bacon, an Irish fan who has won multiple Hugos for his fanzines, who was also at Capricon that year. When we told him about the idea he literally (and I literally mean literally) starting bouncing up and down in his chair with an expression of manic glee on his face. It was terrifying. But also awesome. So who knows if this would have happened without his enthusiasm)

And Keri and I continued pondering those questions. For like, a year and a half. And we would talk about it sometimes, and come up with cool ideas. But it didn’t become a Thing.

Until a Facebook message thread. In which Keri and I were chatting with some friends, and the idea of doing a fanzine written by mostly younger fans came up. So, it made sense to share the idea of the Tumblrzine. After all, we hadn’t been doing anything with it by ourselves. Suddenly, we were all running with it. And this time, it didn’t peter out. It became an Actual Thing. So major congratulations and thanks to Jared for helping to make that happen. He’s been a huge force in pushing this thing out into the world. Without him, we’d probably just still be talking about it, not doing it.

So, what is this thing? Well, first of all, calling it a thing is super rude, you know. Our zine has a name. Populus Wonderland. And no, I won’t tell you what it means or how we came up with it. Maybe one day, when you’re older, if you’re very good, we’ll explain it.

But as for what this is going to look like, well, we have some ideas. This is a fanzine - it’s not a blog. We’ll have discrete issues; we won’t be posting content continuously. But we also plan to take advantage of the unique opportunities that being on Tumblr gives us. We’ll be reblogging content, we’ll have GIFs and we’ll respond to asks and, well, I guess we won’t have replies…

Come on, @staff, can we please have replies back!

A lot of our content will be focused around each issue’s theme. For our first issue, our theme is, well, Birth. Because 1) it’s our first issue and 2) like, half the people involved in this project are having their birthday this week (or had it just a little bit ago, like me, I’m not leaving myself out of this party) (literally, a party, we’re throwing a party at Arisia next weekend). We’ll also have content that is independent of the theme - it’s just cool stuff we want to show you!

Beyond that, though, who knows what this will become? Who knows what our future issues will be themed around (there will definitely be one on Broadway, but you should also drop us an Ask and tell us what you’d like to see)? Populus Wonderland will be growing and evolving as we figure out what works and what doesn’t, and we’d love for you to be a part of the journey.

So, please, join us for this wild ride. Shoot us an email, or send us an Ask, or, if you prefer the oldstyle fanzine terminology, send us a Letter of Comment. I’m not sure where we’re going, or what exactly the journey is going to look like, but it will almost certainly be a blast. As long as someone remembers to keep us stocked up on Cheez-its and Dr. Pepper.