Game of Thrones, and the real reason I have an aversion to fantasy fiction…

… I’ve never been much of a fan of fantasy fiction mostly because the stories are made up of people whose names I can’t pronounce; stupid Nordic, elfish sounding names with too many vowels and unnecessary “y”s living in some pseudo-medieval time, that have a genealogy longer and more dry than a phone book. I can never keep up with who sired who in the House of Whatever from the regal blood line of Lord Whosit. There’s that and [whisper] the other thing. Sometimes the fans of this type of genre unnerve me…

I firmly believe, no matter the popularity of cos-play and Cons, that no grown adult should be seen in public wearing a costume outside of Halloween. Second to my irrational fear of dinosaurs is my intense unease in the presence of a half naked grown man or woman dressed as a woodland elf with pointy ears, or a medieval serving wench, or a warlock or any other damn weird thing.

So it was with great trepidation that I set my fears aside and began reading Games of Thrones. So far it doesn’t suck. This is a monumental admission coming from me, but don’t expect to see me anywhere near a Ren-Fest anytime soon.

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