GOODKIND IV

[Knight of the Wineskin]

How foolish can you get? Terry does not write fantasy. Fantasy is for children.

[Wolf Girl]

<Richard laughed, Kahlan laughed, Chase clapped Zedd on the back and laughed, all the men laughed.>

<Wolf Girl laughed.>

[DJ Dawn]

I physically got sick reading that quote, Moose.

Part of me wanted to read Goodkind so I could join in the fun, now I know that I'll have to get mighty drunk to do it.

[The Wolf Maid]

I was going to try to write an Objectivist response to the latest quote of the day, but I had barely skimmed it when my gag reflex kicked in. I mean, it's the kind of thing a teenage girl with a crush on her math teacher would write. Harlequin romance editors would reject this stuff.

...or burn the manuscript itself. Really, romance writers could do better than that. XD

Yep, thats hot enough to make me get an erection while stark naked in winter, scared shitless, 'cause I'm about to launch a suicidal attack on the best Roman-clone army evah.

[Moosicus]

I physically got sick reading that quote, Moose.

Part of me wanted to read Goodkind so I could join in the fun, now I know that I'll have to get mighty drunk to do it.

Why do you think I drink so much? For fun?

[Wolf Girl]

Why do you think I drink so much? For fun?

It's a dirty job...

[Moosicus]

It's a dirty job...

It's a public service.

[DJ Dawn]

Why do you think I drink so much? For fun?

That's why I do it, and I think that I could keep up wit chou.

[Moosicus]

That's why I do it, and I think that I could keep up wit chou.

It's not about keeping up with me (which you probably can't, young pup that you are), but can you read Terry and still hold you liquor? Thats the real test boy.

[DJ Dawn]

It's not about keeping up with me (which you probably can't, young pup that you are), but can you read Terry and still hold you liquor? Thats the real test boy.

Young, yes...but an alcoholic supreme.

I'll have to try this 'reading Tairy' and holding my liquor thing.

[Moosicus]

Young, yes...but an alcoholic supreme.

I'll have to try this 'reading Tairy' and holding my liquor thing.

I know and respect your alcoholism. You're a champion, particularly in you age group. Adding Tairy to the mix takes you to a whole new level.

[Jaxom 1974]

Is there going to be a drink for WorldCon called "The Tairy"...it seems somehow appropriate...

Ingredients

1 oz.

Brandy - Apple

1/2 oz.

Vermouth - Italian

1 dash

Bitters - Orange

2 drops

Bitters - Angostura

1 dash

Sugar - Syrup

Instructions

Stir with lump of ice in Old-Fashioned glass.

(Originally called a "Fair Weather Cocktail".)

[The Wolf Maid]

Ingredients

1 oz.

Brandy - Apple

1/2 oz.

Vermouth - Italian

1 dash

Bitters - Orange

2 drops

Bitters - Angostura

1 dash

Sugar - Syrup

Instructions

Stir with lump of ice in Old-Fashioned glass.

(Originally called a "Fair Weather Cocktail".)

Is this enough to make you able to forget you actually read TG's stuff, and remove the bad taste in your mouth? XD

[Mme Erzulie]

Too good (bad) to pass up.

Richard found her, kneeling before one of the deserted devotion pools. The gag was still tied around her neck, left there when she had pulled it from her mouth. Kahlan hunched over in tears, her long hair cascading off her shoulders {might want to consider waxing there, Kahlan. On second thought, no. Richard's love for you is so deep he will not be turned off by the hair growing from your shoulders.} as she leaned forward, the knife gripped in both fists, the point held to her chest. {Oh my God! People are indeed stupid. Kahlan obviously didn't know the first thing about knife safety. YOUR HOULDING IT THE WRONG WAY, KHALAN!!!} Her shoulders shook with her sobs. Richard came to a stop next to the folds of her white dress.

"Don't do that," he whispered.

"I must. I love you." {Wafer-thin excuse, Kahlan. It's not you, it's me! You have our sympathy, that's for sure. This guy sure doesn't know how to take a hint. How many "abductions" and "kidnappings" have there been, now?} Kahlan gave a little moan. "I have touched you with my power. {Naughte-e-ey!} I would rather die than be your mistress. {Ok, seriously, Richard. She's not exactly being roundabout here} It is the only way to get rid of you release you." She gave a tearful shudder. "I would like you to give me a kiss, and then leave me {Hey, if he hasn't got the clue by now, I don't think that will help} I don't want you to see it."

"No." {'Atta boy}

Her eyes snapped up to his {I love all this freaky organ action. HOW DO YOU DO IT, KHALAN!!!???}. "What did you say?" she whispered{, in stark disbelief. What would it take to get the point across to him?}.

Richard put his fists on his hips{, striking a manly pose. Practice in front of the mirror, guys. This trick works magic with the chicks. Wouldn't be surprised if Kahlan is charmed out of her long white dress by this}. "I said 'no.' I'm not going to kiss you with those silly things painted on your face. They nearly scared the life out of me." {Heh. Let's hope Richard never have to save Kahlan from the KISS Army.}

Her green eyes stared in disbelief. "You can deny me nothing, once I have touched you with my power." {Ah, yes. The woman fallacy}

Richard squatted down close to her. He untied the gag from her neck. "Well, then, you have ordered me to kiss you" -- he dunked the cloth in the water -- "and I told you I won't do it with this thing painted on your face." He began wiping the lightning bolts from her skin. "So, I guess the only solution is to get rid of it."

She knelt, frozen, while he cleaned the red off her face. {She really thought she'd get rid of him this time.} Richard looked into her wide eyes when he finished. He tossed the rag aside, and knelt in front of her, slipping his arms around her waist.

"Richard, I touched you with the magic. I felt it. I heard it. I saw it. How could the power not have taken you?" {In other words, why the hell are you still here?!}

"Because I was protected."

"Protected? How?"

"By my love for you. I realized I love you more than life itself, and I would rather give myself into your power than live without you. {Heave.} Nothing the magic could do to me could be worse than living without you. {Vomit.} I was willing to give it all over to you. I offered the power everything I have. All of my love for you. {Barf.} Once I realized how much I loved you, was willing to be yours on any terms, I understood that there could be nothing for the magic to harm. {Retch.} I'm already devoted to you; it didn't need to change me. I was protected, because I have already been touched, by your love. {Ok, I know this is gross and probably TMI, after reading that last sentence, I had to run to the bathroom due to the riverruns. I swear to God this is true. I took my morning dump less than an hour ago. This was 100% pulp-induced. I've never felt the effects of the written word so strongly or urgently before.} I had utter faith that you felt the same, and had no fear of what would happen. Had I had any doubt, the magic would have latched on to that crack {because doubt manifests itself in the shape of an ass, apparently} and taken me {and you would have enjoyed that, Rich. Don't lie.} , but I had no doubt. My love for you is smooth and seamless. {Symon Silvertounge, go home!} My love for you protected me from the magic."

She gave him her special smile. {Ok, seriously, does she, like, have an endless supply of those or something?} "You felt that way? You had no doubt?"

Richard smiled back. "Well, for a moment, when I saw those lightning bolts on you face, I have to admit, I was worried. {Richard, as we all know, was a die-hard Florida Panthers fan, and could never bear living with a Tampa Bay supporter. That would have been the final nail in the coffin.} I didn't know what they were, what they meant. {Someone call Robert Langdon! We got ourselves some code here! Jeez.} I pulled the sword, trying to gain time to think. {Never put it past Richard to come up with the correct reaction. Ligthning face paint = draw sword. Hippie peace protesters = draw sword. Annoying girls = kick face.} But then I realized it didn't matter; you were still Kahlan, and I still loved you, no matter what you had painted on your face. I wanted you to touch me more than anything, to prove my love and devotion for you, but I had to put on an act for Darken Rahl's benefit. {Aww. Richard, how sweet of you. Never forgetting your dad, even for a second. You know Darken likes a good act.}"

<if you aren't gagging by now, there is something profoundly wrong with you>

QFT

"These symbols mean that I, too, gave everything over to you," *Flips frenetically through the face-painting courtship rule book* she whispered.

Kahlan circled her arms around his neck, kissing him. They knelt on the tiles in front of the devotion pool, presseed against one another. Richard kissed her soft lips the way he had dreamed a thousand times of kissing her. He kissed her until he was dizzy, and then kissed her som more, not caring that bewildered people who passed watched them. {He *did* care about the non-bewildered people who passed and watched, though. The nerve of those people!}

Richard had no idea how long they knelt there embracing, but decided at last that they had better go find Zedd. {Zedd always got cranky if he wasn't let in on the fun. Richard laughed when he pictured himself and Zedd running a train on this attention-starved whore.} With her arm aound his waist, her head leaning against him, they walked back to the Garden of Life, kissing once more before they went through the doors.

Zedd stood with one hand on a bony hip, the other stroking his cock chin, as he inspected the altar and other things behind it. Kahlan fell to her knees before him, taking his cock hands in hers, kissing it them.

"Zedd, he loves me! He figured out how to make it work, with the magic. There was a way, and he found it." {Wow, Kahlan. Thank you for that coherent, eloquent and thorough explanation.}

Zedd frowned down at her. "Well, it took him long enough."

~Terry Goodkind, Wizards First Rule

[Sad King Billy]

Oh. My. God.

MME, you are still the Goodkind champion, man....

On a slightly different note, I'm reading Douglas Adams' Dirk Gently, and recently came across the following paragraph. I couldn't believe my eyes when I read it. While it could be used for a lot of writers (Dan Brown comes to mind), there is a certain phrase that makes it perfect for this thread. Just change the name "Howard Bell" with "Terry Goodkind" and... well, see for yourself...

"I have read it," she announced, having thumbed her way by now through most of Run Like the Devil. "At least, I started it and read the first couple of chapters. A couple of months ago, in fact. I don't know why I still read his books. It's perfectly clear that his editor doesn't." She looked up at Dirk. "I wouldn't have thought it was your sort of thing. From what little I know of you."

"It isn't," said Dirk. "I, er, picked it up by mistake."

"'That's what everyone says," replied Kate. "He used to be quite good," she added "if you liked that sort of thing. My brother's in publishing in New York, and he says Howard Bell's gone very strange nowadays. I get the feeling that they're all a little afraid of him and he quite likes that. Certainly no one seems to have the guts to tell him he should cut chapters ten to twenty-seven inclusive. And all the stuff about the goat. The theory is that the reason he sells so many millions of copies is that nobody ever does read them. If everyone who bought them actually read them they'd never bother to buy the next one and his career would be over."

and a bit later:

"Like what he gets up to in hotel suites all across America. No one knows the details, of course, they just get the bills and pay them because they don't like to ask. They feel they're on safer ground if they don't know. Particularly about the chickens."

"Chickens?" said Dirk. "What chickens?"

"Well apparently," said Kate, lowering her voice and leaning forward a little, "he's always having live chickens delivered to his hotel room."

Dirk frowned.

"What on earth for?" he said.

"Nobody knows. Nobody ever knows what happens to them. Nobody ever sees them again. Not," she said, leaning even

further forward, and dropping her voice still further, "a single feather."

[Werthead]

Just adding to what Mormont said earlier, but try to keep the quotes to a reasonable length to keep within Fair Use guidellines. If you have to scroll down to view the whole thing, it's probably on the long side

[Zap Rowsdower]

Terry Goodkind: Superhero!

Was just reading Terry Goodkind's discussion page at wikipedia. Some of the things that didn't make it into the actual article are hilarious!

If reports can be believed, Goodkind possess the power of hypnosis and is trained in driving formula one racing cars (the racing cars bit was apparently verified by Mystar himself, so naturally this MUST be true!).

Is it just me, or is Goodkind sounding more and more like a comic book superhero? By day, he is a mild mannered hack writer, but by night he fights against collectivism from the seat of his racing car and with the use of his strange mesmeric powers!

Is Terry Goodkind the alter ego of Libertarian Man?

[Werthead]

Apparently, TG has sold 50 million books. That's nearly twice as many as Robert Jordan.

Yet, Tor Books still say that Jordan is their best-selling author and spent $700,000 on marketing Knife of Dreams, whilst only $400,000 on marketing Chainfire. And when you log onto Tor's website, their flagship book is Knife of Dreams.

I dunno, those crazy Tor cats, eh?

[Plessiez]

I dunno, those crazy Tor cats, eh?

Are Tor those same crazy subjectivists who've tried to have Terry branded as a "Fantasy" author? (By, well, publishing his books.) Clearly they've got ulterior motives here ...

[Werthead]

Hey, you're a right! It's a conspiracy!