Cheques may be made out to the Foo Bar Company.
Wound up back at the Jim Baen's Universe suite, which seemed to be the only non-bidding suite open after 3:00—very unfannish, how early the parties kept shutting down—and visited with the Baeniacs for a couple of hours, then toddled off to bed just ahead of the sunrise, which is how you're supposed to do it at Worldcons.
At the same time, she crossed the boundaries separating men from women not with a cozy androgyny, nor even with the 'glam rock' stylizations of the period, but by displaying a cold and forbidding, more-than-masculine, and ultimately ungenderable hardbody.
The problem with the argument about the absentee daddy is that in order to buy into it, you have to believe that black women are dumb as rocks, […] and that the black supercock is a mystical one-eyed wonderweasel that mesmerizes and hypnotizes defenseless young black girls […]
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