Just Fix It, John Scalzi

“I have now eaten 2 apple fritters. And I’m not fitnessing tonight. When I can’t fit into my jeans tomorrow, I’m blaming you.”

“I told you to share…”

“That goes against every instinct I have.”

This is how GBFF…WHTBS managed to take the remaining apple fritter away from me. Without any scarring or appendage loss.

But I did need those apple fritters.

Both of them.

Because John Scalzi, man.

John Fucking Scalzi.

Have you read John Scalzi?

He’s generally a really solid author.

I enjoy him quite much.

But fucking Fuzzy Nation.

I should probably spoiler alert here. Because I know me. I’m not going to be able to properly cathar (is there actually a verb form of catharsis?) without explaining what in the fuck happened in this book.

So, if you’re a sci-fi fan. And haven’t yet read John Scalzi’s Fuzzy Nation. Well. I mean, it’s a great book. A great book. Except also, fuck John Scalzi.

But if you haven’t read it yet. You maybe should check it out from the library. (Don’t purchase it. Because you’re gonna wanna burn it when you’re done. And fuck John Scalzi. He doesn’t get any more of our money for this book. He can have money for his other books. His books where he knows how to act. He gets no further royalties for Fuzzy Nation. This is what we call natural consequences.)

And definitely stop reading this particular blog post for the moment. Then come back after you’ve read that bullshit. So we can rail on John Fucking Scalzi together.

Ok. GBFF is the one who recommended Fuzzy Nation. And John Fucking Scalzi.

He understands my brain. And love of sci-fi.

And because I’d managed to devour two other Scalzi books fully entertained and completely un-emotionally-scathed. I trusted him. Both of hims.

I trusted both GBFF…WHTBS and John Fucking Scalzi.

And I fell in love. By the end of the first chapter. No. By the end of the first paragraph.

(You’ve read it at this point. Right. You’re not still reading this without having read that. Right. So we can talk about why I fell in love. Right.)

Because Carl.

I fell in love with Carl.

And then I fell in love again. A chapter or two later. With Papa. And then Mama. And Granpda. And Pinto. And Baby.

I fell in love with ALL. Of. Them. John!!!

And I was so distracted by figuring out how their planet was going to be saved. And the meaning of sentience. And the parallels to all the bullshit we do here. On earth. And imagining what my home would be like if I suddenly discovered that my cats had language. And opposable thumbs.

That I was unprepared.


For…the incident.

Baby, John?!?!??!

What in the fuck were you thinking???


There were so many people you could have done that to!

And yeah. I get it. The fuzzys are people.

But they were innocents.

We don’t just go around killing off all the children for dramatic effect, John.

Unless you’re George Lucas. And really. Did anyone really care about all of the younglings?

Weren’t we all really still trying to recover from the idea that Lucas wanted us to buy fucking Jar Jar Binks as a legitimate fucking character? That we were all like, psht. Go ahead. Kill the younglings. We don’t care. May as well kill off all of the future generation and start over.

Because fucking prequels.

Is that who you want to be, John? The dude who is responsible for Jar Jar Binks?


I was fucking sobbing.


Through that entire chapter.

Every animal in my home was trying to figure out what in hell just happened.

“My god someone make her stop.”

“Look. Why don’t you just give me the book. This can’t be good for anyone.”

“Who gave you that book? He needs to just come take it back. Now. Give me your phone. I’ll call him. This is not ok.”

“Fuck. One of you useless little shits come push my hips up off the floor so I can go to a different room. I don’t wanna watch this.”

They were not entirely helpful as I sat there wailing “he’s killing the innocents!!!”

And so, Gracie pushed my phone into my hand so I could text GBFF.

”What in the actual fuck??? Why would you let me read this????”

Fuck that book.

But after ranting to GBFF. And then calming the fuck down. Two fucking hours later. And being unable to sleep. Because Baby and Pinto. I decided to go back in. To read how the vengeance would go. What horrible fate would befall DeLise. The worst fucking waste of character ever created.

So I finished the book.

I stayed up half the night finishing the book…

So that I could read about DeLise’s torturous demise.

And as I was reading…

Are. You. Fucking. Playing. John.

Do you think this is a fucking game?

That piece of shit took an innocent little cat person thing. That just wanted to cuddle with Carl the dog. And stomped on her. And threw her into a fire. And then shot her betrothed little cat person thing as he tried to rescue her.

And your justice is to…send him off planet to continue his shitty life???

Where are the zararaptors tearing his flesh from his body, John??? Where are his screams as he flails helplessly off the side of one of those fucking mountains Carl just allegedly detonated???

Where was the accident as his ship was transporting him, causing him to be sucked out into space, experiencing slow, painful, extended suffocation before slamming into a jagged space rock impaling him by the balls allowing him to finally bleed out.

Where was that justice, Scalzi?


We can fix this, John.

I’ve got Ghost Brigades and The Last Colony just sitting here. Waiting to be read.

And I’m sure I’ll enjoy them.

But I refuse.

I refuse until you fix this.

Rewrite it.

Just the ending.

Just give me one extra chapter on the demise of DeLise.

And make it good.

Just really show us your darkest, most vengeful side.

Because my emotional wounds are still fresh.

And they need this to help them heal.

Also, I will now only be taking book recommendations from people who are not GBFF.

Because fuck John Scalzi.

14 responses to “Just Fix It, John Scalzi”


    “DeLisle died on the way back to his home planet.”

    Hope that helps —


    1. I mean, I’m not sure you’re putting in the vicious effort I’d hoped for, but…

      Here, let me help.

      “And it was a slow, humiliating, torturous death. And it burned when he peed.”

      Thanks for the resolution.

      I can now begin The Ghost Brigades.

  2. I suspect you need to go full “Misery” to make this happen. Based on what I know about you I think you’ve got the drive to get the job done.

    1. He’s pacified me. For the moment. With his comment above. But if I read one more of his books where he kills off innocents and doesn’t adequately avenge their murderer, then I may be forced to purchase proper restraints.

  3. Is that the real author also commenting? Him knowing in advance would make this harder. Probably should call it off

  4. Seriously. Is that him?

  5. Okay… I had to read the actual book to be able to empathise… and I seriously think somewhere in that ending a Zararaptor should have amazingly managed to find it’s way into DeLisle’s Skimmer… maybe Papa could have left a trail of meat for it… it couldn’t have happened to a more deserving person. Dying on the way back to his home planet is just not a good enough ending… How did he die.? Alcohol poisoning.? Heart attack.? Banging his head on a metal beam.? Whiplash.? How.? There’s just not enough substance at the end there to make me feel like the story’s complete. That said, thank you… because thanks to you I read Fuzzy Nation, and am now downloading the original stories by H. Beam Piper. Maybe he can end DeLisle in a satisfactory manner for me. 😀

    1. Yes! You get me. Thank you for this validation. And please let me know how Piper’s books handle this sort of monstrosity.

      See, John Scalzi? Your readership demands brutal satisfaction!

  6. Unfortunately, Mr. Piper let the fuzzy killer take his own life in a jail cell, sawing the zipper on his jacket across his throat until he severed his jugular vein, and bled out… bit of a cowardly cop out and not the brutal satisfaction I had hoped for. Someone needs to do a rewrite with an appropriate level of retribution at the end..

    1. Geez. Do we have to take to writing the books ourselves??

      1. Looks that way. I might give it a try.. 🙂

  7. […] he always knows the right books to recommend. Even if they end in me rage writing a blog post to the author. (Which the author responded to, btw. Because he recognized that he was wrong. For that book […]

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