1. Is it wrong that I kind of wish I’d had walruses’ early publicity? I, too, would like to lie around naked on some rocks, growing increasingly fatter and mustachier while moving only to poop far enough away from me that I don’t have to smell it and have folks for 200 years believe that if I “see any man on the Sea-shore, and can catch him, I come suddenly upon hum, and rend him with my Teeth, that I will kill him in a trice.” Though, honestly, if I’m happily laying in the sun, naked, and I come suddenly upon you, you can’t really be surprised. Pissed, sure. Surprised? No. Just saying. Those walruses had a pretty bad-ass reputation.
2. I have already snorgle-coveted Popcorn in my heart repeatedly. I’m not sure if it’s a sin to want to rub the belly of another man’s dog or not.
3. This is pretty much how I feel about self-publishing. Not that I wouldn’t do it again, but man, it really, truly is a business all to itself. And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with not being up for that.