I have had a vision of the future. A dark vision. A chilling vision. A vision sent BACK THROUGH TIME from myself, a few years hence.
A vision of the time WHEN THE PULP REVOLUTION RULES THE EARTH!
I am shaken. I am shuddering. I am shocked.
Allow me a moment or two to regain my composure.
In the grim darkness of the near-flung future, there is only Pulpy Awesomeness. The iron thewed, and scantily clad, vanguard of the Pulp Revolution stormed the doors of New York publishing houses, casting down the triple idols of Diversity, Perversity, and Realism, and raising in their stead the banner of PULPY AWSOMEOSITY.
It was GRIM. It was BRUTAL. (Will have been GRIM. Will have been BRUTAL.)
Now, I confess that when people spoke up, warning us that the Pulp Revolution was on the verge of taking COMPLETE AND UTTER CONTROL of publishing, and establishing a rule as cruel and censorious as that of the Silver and Clay Agers, I laughed. Oh, how I laughed.
“How is that even possible? For hell’s sakes, we’re a bunch of fans and writers sharing old stories and loving the hell out of them. Even if we wanted to, we couldn’t seize every single editorship in New York publishing, not to mention Amazon and Indie publishing, not to mention Livejournal, Facebook, and a million other websites. It’s physically impossible.”
MORE THE FOOL I! How did I not see that, as inevitably as an apple falling from a tree, the Pulp Revolution would seize the means of fiction production and force every writer to pen only tales of thrilling adventure, stirring desire, and awe inspiring heroics? HOW DID I NOT SEE?! And the things I said…
“Look, none of us want to forcibly eradicate all other forms of fiction, the way the Silver and Clay Agers have already tried. All of us are fans of some (or many) non-Pulp authors—even if the Pulp authors are far more awesomeacious—and frankly we could care less what bloodless and abstract intellectualisms Blue SF obsesses over, or what turgid and boring tracts Pink SF passes around at their group therapy encounter sessions. People should write what they want. And what we want are awesome tales of RED F&SF.”
STUPID! STUPID! STUPID! How did I not see the obvious truth in front of my face—that the Pulp Revolution would inevitably sweep away all other forms of fiction, and establish THE EMPIRE OF PULP AWESOMENESS.
I was warned. I only had to listen. This is the future I chose.
Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa.
Jasyn Jones, better known as Daddy Warpig, is a host on the Geek Gab podcast, a regular on the Superversive SF livestreams, and blogs at Daddy Warpig’s House of Geekery. Check him out on Twitter.
Who gets eyepatches and who gets robot arms?
I’m gonna have so much fun that I’m gonna beg Brian Niemeier, “please, stop making me have fun. I’m tired of having fun.”
And Brian is going to be like “No, Jon. You must continue to have fun.”
Then he will unveil a book of pure star light that shoots beams of fun from its very pages. Literary snobs will be vanquished and cower from its pure, joyous glow.
And despite my being tired of having so much fun, I will demand more.
You’ve almost perfectly described my upcoming book for Castalia House.
Having fun reading Merritt, I assume?
Still not tired.
Keep the robot arms; I’d like a brunette like the one wrapped around Pulp Revolution’s leg.
The PulpRev is on the move. I’m sure the other side will try to say, “Look! There’s some sort of movement out there in the darkness. They must be retreating from the devastating force of our formidable arguments!”
Right. I guess in the sense a full-speed charge of flaming hovertanks is a “retreat in reverse”. Godspeed, dog-brothers!
WE SHALL CLEAVE OUR ENEMIES AS THEY STAND BEFORE US, FROZEN IN AWE AT THE UNBRIDLED MAJESTY OF THE PULPS! ALL THEY HAD TO DO WAS LISTEN! OUR REIGN SHALL BE LONG AND BLOODY, MY BROTHERS! NONE MAY STAND AGAINST US!
AVE PULP REVOLUTION!
Commissar Warpig,
While paroling the frontiers of InfoGabalactic Online Books we spotted a smarmy bureaucrat protagonist who for no good reason gets the uglyhottie in glasses librarian nerd girl and saves the universe from nanobots which suspiciously resemble Steve Bannon (Bannonbots?) using nothing more then a paper clip, a smart phone and a dull coffee house conversation among frienemies about the social construct of artisan crafted food condiments.
Requesting permission to either boil the author in the Hernstrominum filled cauldron or flay him on the rack with the broken Phoenix sword of Sage Epemitreus.
Glory to the Brain in a Jar of Supreme Dark Lord of the Evil Legion of Evil!
Glory to God Emperor Barron Trump!
By your command,
Unsavvy Footsoldier 2nd Class Hooc Ott
I vote for boiling in the Cauldron of Hernstrominum. Of course.
Wait a minute. UF SECOND CLASS??????
Dear Dark Lord, I’ll never get anywhere if promotion is based on merit!
“I’ll never get anywhere if promotion is based on merit!”
No worries.
In early 2025 the Tradwife let slip my hobby at camp barter and gamergazi NEETs were able to DOX, revealing my personal SFF BIG THREE.
Got the stripes stripped and have been here ever since. Can’t say it wasn’t justified.
Never say the hand of Jeffro is unkind nor unforgiving.
Any chance in your vision that the pulps also push out degenerate Hollyweird and they make entertainment great again?