Doug Hilton is from a different planet, where his title was The Dark Lord of Software. He was found guilty of violating the First Law of Thermodynamics, exceeding the speed of light, and ending a sentence with a preposition, which he won’t speak any more of. He was sentenced to life on Earth, which was presumed to be a sterile environment where Doug couldn’t infect people with strange ideas — and nobody would listen to his tall tales. Instead, it is populated with an interesting species known as “humans”, who deserve books like these. As they transported him to Earth to serve his sentence he was screaming “I only write what the voices say!”
Doug and his lovely wife Diane live in a small fold of time-space called DougWorld, near a town that used to be called the “Watercress Capital of the World”, but is now called Huntsville, Alabama by outsiders (and “Rocket City” by the Chamber of Commerce). Doug and Diane live in a mud hut near the edge of a primordial swamp. Oops, his lovely wife, who is native to Earth, hereby forces him to state that the mud has actually been baked into bricks, and that the swamps dried out during the Late Devonian time period, when the geologic formation known as the Nashville Dome arose from southern-middle Tennessee.
Doug is a software architect, data modeler, programmer and an electronics engineer. He has U.S. Patent 9,158,144, titled “Ontological Filtering Using Spatial Boundary of 3D Objects.” He is also an avid quilter and creator of experimental quilts that integrate quilts with microprocessors — really.
My quilting motto is: “Only dead fish swim downstream.” After getting zero, zilch, nada support or encouragement for my experimental quilts I should get disappointed or discouraged, but instead, I got with the program by producing quilts that are far beyond the traditional quilts of yesterday.
Please see Doug’s feature article in Circuit Cellar magazine Volume 307, February, 2016 entitled “Build an EEPROM-Based Driver”
Doug is Amateur Extra class radio operator WD0UG. Diane is Extra class WD1ANE.
You may like my stories and quilts or you may not — after all not everybody likes Bach, Snoop Dogg or Rachmaninoff, but (like chicken pox) everybody reacts when they’re exposed. If you like it, please e-mail dougworld [at] doug [dot] be.
Take the Cell Phone From Your Ear
(A satire to the tune of Help Me Make it Through the Night)
With Apologies to Kris Kristofferson
Take the cell-phone from your ear
Pry it loose and let it fall
Slip it down into your purse,
Or chuck it up against the wall.
I saw you just run off the road
While texting your best friend
And you’re yakkin’ all the time
Let me help you see the light
You don’t care what’s right or wrong
You shouldn’t ever text and drive
Maybe tomorrow you’ll run over a child
Lord, right now hang up and drive
Yesterday you didn’t breathe
You talked from dawn till after dark
Nobody cares what you have to say
Help me make you understand
You don’t care who’s listening in
You don’t care that you’re a plague
Maybe tomorrow you’ll run over a child
Lord, right now shut up and drive
Yesterday you almost died
And tomorrow you’ll squash a child
Lord, it’s bad to be so rude
R-r-ringggg!! Just hang up the phone and drive!
Why I'm Here Instead of There
Amazon = Walmart = Exxon = places to avoid. They’re big enough that they absolutely don’t give a cr#p about new authors or have any respect for you, the reader. New authors: BEWARE!
Dedicated to Sheila Williams, Editor of Asimov’s Science Fiction magazine, which used to be the watering hole where sci-fi readers drank. Alas, it has become a polluted, muddy hole in the Serengeti where readers who are craving a cool drink of innovative writing are like scared zebras that grab a quick draught of mud before being attacked by beasts of boring and sameness, and the ecosystem is controlled by her ability to drive every reader to a clinically dead state. I say “Pick up your own pen and find a place on the web to publish your good ideas!” — or be stuck in 1982 forever.
And to the traditional quilters out there, none of whom encouraged me or assisted me in the slightest, I wish you well, trapped as you are in amber, never seeing any future to this wonderful hobby. Please wake up before our hobby totally disappears down the black hole of time.