Poor Vox Day (and believe me, that is the very last time I shall describe Vox Day as "poor") finished behind "No Award" for "Opera Vita Aeterna." This did not surprise anyone who wasn't Day or one of his immediate relatives, nor should it have. It did upset him mightily, for he saw the scheming hand of John Scalzi behind his snub. That Scalzi wasn't even SFWA president any more, or that he seemed more amused by l'affaire chiens than anything else, didn't seem to register. This is why in 2015 Day decided that this time he'd put together his own list of nominees, push them onto the ballots through his connections in the gaming industry and what we'd now call the alt right, and put those social justice loving man-traitors like Scalzi and his emasculating feminist allies like Rachel Swirsky and Mary Robinette Kowal in their place. He called his group the Rabid Puppies, directed them to vote for a slate that looked remarkably like that put forth by the Unhappy Fluffpups, and waited for the results. Which were very satisfactory to him indeed, as the combined Diseased/Melancholic Dog choices dominated the ballots. Not only that, Day himself received several nominations, as did almost everyone he published who was not named "Jerry Pournelle." Needless to say, this did not go over well. Several nominees, appalled, withdrew from consideration. Others denounced the Unwell Puplets and their mournful cousins. Still others mounted a campaign to buy supporting memberships to Worldcon to outvote Day and all his minions, while the con committee frantically combed through the rules to see what they could do to prevent future slate voting. This may be why most of the slate finished behind "no award," and only one of the Day-endorsed works, Marvel's Guardians of the Galaxy, actually won…and lest Vox Day take credit for this, rest assured that Guardians was such a fine, fun space opera that it almost certainly would have won anyway. This did not deter Vox Day, oh no! Encouraged by the fact that he'd managed to sow so much chaos, he announced yet another slate early in 2016. Most of these were once again works by conservative/alt right authors, although the moderating influence of the Unhappy Baby Dogs resulted in several works that truly belonged on the ballot actually making it this time. Some of them even won, although it's hard to see how the likes of Neil Gaiman would have been helped by the Vox Day Seal of Approval. Then there was the most unusual nominee of all, who responded with great delight and a brand new work celebrating this great honor. This individual (?), who'd only been (self) publishing his (their?) works since December of 2014, was all but unknown to the science fiction community at large. He (they?) was best known to Amazon customers who'd purchased the Kindle Unlimited app, which allowed them sample enough e-books to choke a Sick Depressed Immature Dog, which may be how Vox Day found out about his (theirs?) masterful works in the first place. And that, my friends, is how perhaps the single most unusual work I've ever described in these diaries got on the Hugo ballot: Space Raptor Butt Invasion, by Chuckle Tingle - Chuck Tingle is many things. He claims to be a tae kwon do master from Billings, Montana, who continued his studies in bodywork by obtaining a PhD in holistic massage from for-profit school DeVry University, and never mind that DeVry does not and never has offered such a degree. He claims to be the father of a grown man, known as "Jon, son of Chuck," who edits his works for (self) publication. Jon, son of Chuck, has in turn has characterized his progenitor as a schizophrenic autistic savant in need of constant care as well as literary guidance, not to mention a steady supply of chocolate milk. That Dr. Chuck is not the author's real name should be obvious. After all, the average tae kwon do master/holistic massage expert might find it difficult to get clients if it were known that he (?) devotes a great deal of time and attention (to put it mildly) to writing niche erotica e-books and stories that give you such a rush that you tingle all over with pleasure and sensual delight at the climax (ha ha, I made a pun! oh god what is wrong with me). And what a niche Dr. Chuck occupies! Just look at some of the seventy-three short stories that have appeared since his first work, the immortal "My Billionaire Triceratops Craves Gay Ass," exploded upon the literary world, replete as they are with hot coffee, unicorns, dinosaurs, sentient inanimate objects, buds and buckerooes, chocolate milk, and proving love in all of its myriad and butt-tastic splendor: - Taken by the Gay Unicorn Biker

- My Ass is Haunted by the Gay Unicorn Colonel

- I'm Gay for My Living Billionaire Jet Plane

- Bigfoot Sommelier Butt Tasting

- Glazed by the Living Gay Donuts

- Pounded in the Butt by My Own Butt

- Shared by the Chocolate Milk Cowboys

- Happy Birthday Frankenstein, Now Pound My Butt

- Creamed in the Butt by My Handsome Living Corn

- Gaygent Brontosaurus: The Butt is Not Enough Too frivolous for your taste? Try some of the topical tales of Dr. Tingle! - Oppressed in the Butt by My Inclusive Holiday Coffee Cups

- Pharma Bro Pounded in the Butt by T-Rex Comedian Bill Murky and a Clan of Triceratops Rappers Trying to Get their Album Back

- Leonard Decaprico Finally Wins His Award and It Pounds Him in the Butt

- This American Butt Hosted by Ira Ass

- Pounded by the Pound: Turned Gay by the Socioeconomic Implications of Britain Leaving the European Union

- Pokebutt Go: Pounded by 'Em All

- Brangelina Splits Apart and then Pounds Their Own Butt

- Donald Tromp Pounded in the Butt by The Handsome Russian T-Rex Who Also Peed On His Butt and Then Blackmailed Him with the Videos of His Butt Getting Peed On Or how about some of the cleverly self-referential works that lead to the possibility that Dr. Chuck may be a dancing wu-li master and/or Gallifreyan as well as a tae kwon do expert? - Lonely Author Pounded by Dinosaur Social Media Followers

- Pounded in the Butt by My Book "Pounded in the Butt by My Own Butt"

- Kissed on the Weiner by My Own Weiner

- Slammed by the Substantial Amount of Press Generated by My Book "Pounded by the Pound: Turned Gay by the Socioeconomic Implications of Britain Leaving the European Union"

- Pounded in the Butt by My Book "Pounded in the Butt by My Book 'Pounded in the Butt by My Own Butt'"

- Living Inside My Own Butt for Eight Years, Starting a Business and Turning a Profit Through Common Sense Reinvestment and Strategic Targeted Marketing

- Pounded in the Butt by My Book "Pounded in the Butt by My Book 'Pounded in the Butt by My Book "Pounded in the Butt by My Own Butt"'" I think there's a theme here, even though the worthy DeVry alumnus (?) has also written three non-erotic books, none of which mentions the gluteal regions in the title even if at least one seems devoted to proving love: Dr. Chuck Tingle's Complete Guide to Romance (self-help)

The Art of the Tingle (a collection of the masterful Photoshop images that serve as cover art for Dr. Chuck's books)

Dr. Chuck Tingle's Complete Guide to Sport (more self-help). Perhaps less obvious, if somewhat speculative, is the possibility that Dr. Chuck is actually a group of people who, for whatever reason, have decided that what this vale of tears needs is a constant stream of Silly Erotica So Bad It's Good. That this is more than a little likely is reinforced by both the speed at which Tingle productions emerge and the swiftness with which they respond to current events, not to mention Dr. Chuck's prolific Twitter feed. Even a schizophrenic autistic savant couldn't conceivably do all that, surely, even helped by martial arts, massage, and a steady supply of cacao-flavored moo juice, right? Right? Then again, no one could have predicted that Tingle-verse masterwork "Space Raptor Butt Invasion" would have made the final Hugo ballot at all, and look what happened. Just why the Hydrophobic Whining Weanlings chose "Space Raptor Butt Invasion" for their slate is not at all clear. It’s set in space, yes, and there are raptors, but otherwise it’s hard to see how it qualifies as science fiction, unless one posits that the Tingle-verse is actually an alternate plane of reality. Chuck Tingle is not primarily an SF author, for all that unicorns, raptors, T-rexes, etc., appear so frequently in the Tingle-verse titles, since he’s said himself that he’s actually interested in proving love (and getting slammed between the nether cheeks) more than anything else. Nor is the father of Jon, son of Chuck, a conservative Christian (far from it). If anything, he’s a political satirist, at least part of the time, even with all the sentient buses, spaceships, coins, canned goods, and so on. It may well be that someone associated with one or both slates decided to include "Space Raptor Butt Invasion" as a slap at Rachel Swirsky's Nebula-winning prose poem/story "If You Were a Dinosaur, My Love,” which seemed to annoy the Pouting Feverish Evolved Wolves more than any other recent award recipient...but then again it's equally likely that the title was chosen at random simply to annoy the rest of the SF community. I will not even venture to guess at the possibility that Vox Day (or someone close to him) either reads Chuck Tingle or (horrors!) is Chuck Tingle. Even I have my limits. Regardless of how it happened, "Space Raptor Butt Invasion" did indeed make it onto the Hugo ballot. And though fandom in general either recoiled in horror or laughed uncontrollably, it looked like Vox Day had actually succeeded in making a major literary award look ridiculous. At least, until Dr. Chuck responded to the nomination of "Space Raptor Butt Invasion" by promptly churning out an equally worthy story called "Slammed in the Butt by my Hugo Award Nomination" and publishing it on the very day that the nominations were announced. If that weren't enough, Billings' gift to niche erotica followed this up a mere two days later with "Space Raptor Butt Redemption." Even better, Dr. Chuck (or Jon, son of Chuck) declared that should “Space Raptor Butt Invasion” win the award, game designer Zoe Quinn, famous for her persecution during teh Gamergate scandal, would accept in place of Dr. Chuck, who was much too busy drinking hot coffee and practicing his high kicks to attend the ceremony. Vox Day must have been thrilled down to his tippy-toes to learn that, let me tell you. Alas for literary historians, chocolate milk lovers, gay space unicorns, and anyone entertained by the idea of bottoming to a can of creamed corn, "Space Raptor Butt Invasion" did not ultimately win the Hugo last year. Naomi Kritzer’s “Cat Pictures, Please,” did, and the prompt appearance of a follow up story by Dr. Chuck, "Pounded in the Butt by My Hugo Award Loss" was small consolation. Neither was the announcement that the Worldcon rules have been changed in hopes of preventing future slate voting (take that, Mr. Day!), nor that Zoe Quinn is working on a video game based on the works of Chuck Tingle, tentatively entitled Kickstarted in the Butt: A Chuck Tingle Adventure, although the game itself looks to be every bit as obsessed with chocolate milk, proving love, and butts as the Tingle ouevre to date. You see, Dr. Chuck's own life is so special, so unusual, so joyously and unrepentantly Chuck Tinglish that he may well deserve a special Hugo simply for being Chuck Tingle. After all, if Leonardo DiCaprio basically got an Oscar for undergoing such hardships that he might well have killed himself filming his next movie if he hadn’t, surely Dr. Chuck, father of Jon, son of Chuck, should get something. Also, I'm pretty sure that "Butt Wars: Rogue Buns" is eligible for consideration this year. Hugo voters, please take note. %%%%% Have you ever heard of Chuck Tingle? Do you want to unleash the Kraken on me for writing this diary? Ever had a glass of chocolate milk? Heard of Vox Day? The Unvaccinated Itsy-Bitsy Doggle-Woggles? Come along, buckeroos, and share…..