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MonsieurChoc
Oct 12, 2013

Every species can smell its own extinction.

Autism Sneaks posted:

His daughter Erica just died this year too :smith:

Yeah, that’s a loving tragedy.

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Lawman 0
Aug 17, 2010

MonsieurChoc posted:

Finished the Eric Garner book. It somehow got me to empathize with the police as they are being solely blamed for enforcing a system decided by politicians voted in by lovely white people.

Abolish the police anyway.

Lock up bill Clinton

im on the net me boys
Feb 19, 2017

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhjjhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhjhhhhhhjhhhhhhhhhjjjhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh cannabis
I preordered "Fire and Fury" by Michael Wolff because I'm unhealthily obsessed with this gently caress lagoon of a presidency. It's probably going to be a waste of $15 but I have poor impulse control.

Epic High Five
Jun 5, 2004



whomupclicklike posted:

I preordered "Fire and Fury" by Michael Wolff because I'm unhealthily obsessed with this gently caress lagoon of a presidency. It's probably going to be a waste of $15 but I have poor impulse control.

It's gonna rule

Epic High Five
Jun 5, 2004



Just finished The Greatship and it ruled. The ending stories are considerably less of an exploration of the ship and more of the universe, but not the worse for it. I don't think I'll remember any of them with as much fondness as I do Alone and Mere, but I highly recommend the book to any hard sci-fi or nerds who like stuff on grand, highly creative scales

TheDon01
Mar 8, 2009


Just started reading Lucifers Hammer. No real reason other than I like Sci-fi, seen it on a bunch of lists and it was super cheap at the bookstore.

Any of you guys read it? Yea? Nay?

SKULL.GIF
Jan 20, 2017


TheDon01 posted:

Just started reading Lucifers Hammer. No real reason other than I like Sci-fi, seen it on a bunch of lists and it was super cheap at the bookstore.

Any of you guys read it? Yea? Nay?

what's it about

i like satan and I also like sci fi

StashAugustine
Mar 24, 2013

Do not trust in hope- it will betray you! Only faith and hatred sustain.

its about a near-apocalyptic asteroid hit on earth; iirc wasnt it written by slightly nuts libertarians?

mormonpartyboat
Jan 14, 2015

by Reene
i got a copy of blood on the shores, a book based on the memoirs of viktor leonov who was a twice hero of the soviet union during ww2. been out of print for years

dude did naval commando poo poo from norway to korea

should be neat

SKULL.GIF
Jan 20, 2017


I finally finished The Divide

gently caress that book and gently caress this country. America is immoral

I'm going to read fiction for the next month or so. Starting with Steven Saylor's A Murder on the Appian Way, historical murder mystery about the death of Publius Clodius Pulcher, right during the Republic collapse

Helsing
Aug 23, 2003

DON'T POST IN THE ELECTION THREAD UNLESS YOU :love::love::love: JOE BIDEN

TheDon01 posted:

Just started reading Lucifers Hammer. No real reason other than I like Sci-fi, seen it on a bunch of lists and it was super cheap at the bookstore.

Any of you guys read it? Yea? Nay?

Haven't read it but the authors are notorious right-wing cranks and based on second hand summaries the plot is all about how sensible and patriotic white guys from suburban California have to band together in the apocalypse to preserve a rational society. That means organizing to violently resist the (literally cannibalistic) black looters streaming out of the nearby inner cities. Along the way we get plenty of helpful lessons on the evils of feminism, environmentalism and welfare.

TheDon01
Mar 8, 2009


Helsing posted:

Haven't read it but the authors are notorious right-wing cranks and based on second hand summaries the plot is all about how sensible and patriotic white guys from suburban California have to band together in the apocalypse to preserve a rational society. That means organizing to violently resist the (literally cannibalistic) black looters streaming out of the nearby inner cities. Along the way we get plenty of helpful lessons on the evils of feminism, environmentalism and welfare.

God dammit I was afraid of this.

The first chapter was basicly a bunch of hollywood billionaires at some rich guy party and one of em is bragging he discovered a comet. I was hoping he'd turn out to be the badguy since his name was Hamner or something

Good thing it was only like $1

Yossarian-22
Oct 26, 2014

SKULL.GIF posted:

I finally finished The Divide

gently caress that book and gently caress this country. America is immoral

I'm going to read fiction for the next month or so. Starting with Steven Saylor's A Murder on the Appian Way, historical murder mystery about the death of Publius Clodius Pulcher, right during the Republic collapse

clodius was the most nitecrew roman

GalacticAcid
Apr 8, 2013

NEW YORK VALUES


Read it.

"Robin D.G. Kelley, author of [i posted:

Hammer and Hoe[/i]"]Akinyele Umoja’s marvelously rich and exhaustive study of Mississippi will radically transform the debate about the role of nonviolence within the civil rights movement, proving that armed self-defense actually saved lives, reduced terrorist attacks on African American communities, and laid the foundation for unparalleled community solidarity. We Will Shoot Back is decidedly not a romantic celebration of gun culture, but a sometimes sobering, sometimes beautiful story of self-reliance and self-determination and a people’s capacity to sustain a movement against all odds."

Pivotal reading for exploring how diverse tactics intersect in the struggle for power & justice

GalacticAcid
Apr 8, 2013

NEW YORK VALUES
next on my list

1) Blood in the water : the Attica prison uprising of 1971 and its legacy by Heather Ann Thompson

2) Red globalization : the political economy of the Soviet Cold War from Stalin to Khrushchev by Oscar Sanchez-Sibony

3) Shadow Cold War : the Sino-Soviet competition for the Third World by Jeremy Friedman

then ill try to binge on fiction lol

im on the net me boys
Feb 19, 2017

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhjjhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhjhhhhhhjhhhhhhhhhjjjhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh cannabis

GalacticAcid posted:



Read it.


Pivotal reading for exploring how diverse tactics intersect in the struggle for power & justice

I read a different book about this: This Nonviolent Stuff'll Get You Killed by Charles Cobb. More of an overview of the movement than just in one state, though. I'd recommend it.

GalacticAcid
Apr 8, 2013

NEW YORK VALUES

whomupclicklike posted:

I read a different book about this: This Nonviolent Stuff'll Get You Killed by Charles Cobb. More of an overview of the movement than just in one state, though. I'd recommend it.

Interesting, thanks - Cobb appears at several points in We Will Shoot Back.

Epic High Five
Jun 5, 2004



just finished Red Son and omg it rules

GalacticAcid
Apr 8, 2013

NEW YORK VALUES
Has anybody read Jackson Rising yet? I intend on picking it up as soon as I get through my current library stack. Someone in another thread directed me to this excellent Oxford American essay on the same subject - The Socialist Experiment: a new-society vision in Jackson, Mississippi.

Homeless Friend
Jul 16, 2007

The New Jim Crow posted:

Imagine you are Emma Faye Stewart, a thirty-year-old, single African American mother of two who was arrested as part of a drug sweep in Hearne, Texas. All but one of the people arrested were African American. You are innocent. After a week in jail, you have no one to care for your two small children and are eager to get home. Your court-appointed attorney urges you to plead guilty to a drug distribution charge, saying the prosecutor has offered probation. You refuse, steadfastly proclaiming your innocence. Finally, after almost a month in jail, you decide to plead guilty so you can return home to your children. Unwilling to risk a trial and years of imprisonment, you are sentenced to ten years probation and ordered to pay $1,000 in fines, as well as court and probation costs. You are also now branded a drug felon. You are no longer eligible for food stamps; you may be discriminated against in employment; you cannot vote for at least twelve years; and you are about to be evicted from public housing. Once homeless, your children will be taken from you and put in foster care.

A judge eventually dismisses all cases against the defendants who did not plead guilty. At trial, the judge finds that the entire sweep was based on the testimony of a single informant who lied to the prosecution. You, however, are still a drug felon, homeless, and desperate to regain custody of your children.

Now place yourself in the shoes of Clifford Runoalds, another African American victim of the Hearne drug bust. You returned home to Bryan, Texas, to attend the funeral of your eighteen-month-old daughter. Before the funeral services begin, the police show up and handcuff you. You beg the officers to let you take one last look at your daughter before she is buried. The police refuse. You are told by prosecutors that you are needed to testify against one of the defendants in a recent drug bust. You deny witnessing any drug transaction; you don’t know what they are talking about. Because of your refusal to cooperate, you are indicted on felony charges. After a month of being held in jail, the charges against you are dropped. You are technically free, but as a result of your arrest and period of incarceration, you lose your job, your apartment, your furniture, and your car. Not to mention the chance to say good-bye to your baby girl.

Folks... this America place... not so good.

the bitcoin of weed
Nov 1, 2014

a book so good they're banning it from prisons

https://twitter.com/ShaunKing/status/950338320193769472

nobody will care because prisoners don't have any civil rights lol

TheDon01
Mar 8, 2009


I put down Lucifers Hammer for now because I found a copy of The Forever War by Haldeman.

Im about 2/3 the way through it now but it is so good. Space weed, bunkin battle buddies and (future) earth sucks.

Epic High Five
Jun 5, 2004



TheDon01 posted:

I put down Lucifers Hammer for now because I found a copy of The Forever War by Haldeman.

Im about 2/3 the way through it now but it is so good. Space weed, bunkin battle buddies and (future) earth sucks.

Forever War loving rules, especially the fully automated gay luxury communism bit

never read Lucifer's Hammer but it sounds pretty bad, you made a good call in switching up

If you like Forever War check out Return from the Stars next, it also deals with culture shock from time dilation but it's all post-war, and also Stanislaw Lem is a gem of a writer who doesn't get enough love

SKULL.GIF
Jan 20, 2017


And the very last excerpt I'll post from The Divide before I delete this cursed file from my Kindle.

I won't bold anything. Read it through if you're white.

Matt Taibbi, the Divide posted:

On the morning of March 23, 2011, a young white saxophonist and music teacher named Patrick Jewell woke up in Brooklyn in a good mood.

Everything in his life was moving in the right direction. A few months earlier, he’d met a girl and fallen in love. Just that morning, as per their brand-new routine, he’d made her breakfast and walked her from her Brooklyn apartment to the subway stop on Marcy Avenue, where she left every morning to go to work in Manhattan. He watched her walk up the stairs to the elevated subway platform, leaned up against the stairs on street level, carefully rolled a cigarette of American Spirit pouch tobacco (in New York, where cigarette taxes are through the roof, rolling your own saves about four dollars a pack), and smiled. Life was good.

Patrick was born in the heart of Bible-belt Kentucky—two hours south of Lexington. “In a dry county surrounded by eight other dry counties,” he says. He’d come to New York a few years before from Los Angeles, where he’d gotten a master’s degree in jazz studies at the California Institute of the Arts.

Slightly built, bearded, likely to be dressed in a porkpie hat and clothes that are mellow and vintage, Patrick looks like what he is, a musical ascetic and a gentle soul. He’s a vegetarian who once went on a five-day seminar with the Dalai Lama to study compassionate living, a person who does cancer walks and studies tai chi and meditation. He volunteers at a homeless shelter. He describes his outlook on life as “Buddhish.” Staying in Southern California probably would have suited him just fine.

But after finishing school in L.A. and beginning a career taking on students to put food on the table, things quickly got tight. The 2008 financial crash forced the move. “People there don’t stop driving BMWs and living in big houses when they lose money,” he says, laughing. “What they do is stop sending their kids to music lessons.”

So in the summer of 2009, when he started to become even more broke than usual, he and about twenty of his musician friends packed up and made an exodus to New York, the city of Birdland and the Blue Note, to try to make it there.

They didn’t have a lot of money, so they found a house in the one place they could afford: Bedford-Stuyvesant, living just a few avenues away from the war zone where Andrew Brown had lived his whole life. A racially mixed mobile commune of California musicians wasn’t the usual resident profile for Bed-Stuy, but they made it work. He would eventually move south to the less-imposing Lefferts Gardens area of Brooklyn, but some of his friends stayed in and around the old house in Bed-Stuy. One night he was back in that neighborhood when he met a girl who had moved in with some of his old friends.

Her name was Lauren, and she was about ten years younger than he was (Patrick was thirty-two by then), but they took to each other immediately. They started making plans to live together. All that was missing was a steady job, and by March 2011, even that was coming around. He had just gotten a gig teaching nine- and ten-year-olds at after-school band practices for the Brooklyn Conservatory of Music.

Patrick had no formal background in teaching so many different instruments. He’d spent his whole college and postgrad career studying to be a sax performer. But he’d learned how to do it in California the hard way. “Basically, I had to take an old trumpet home and kind of had to learn ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb,’ man,” he says.

He was performing occasionally at some clubs in Manhattan, he was working on an album, he had a new job, and he didn’t know it yet, but he’d just met the girl he was going to marry someday. Life was good. He had no reason not to stop and take it all in on the steps of the Marcy Avenue subway station over a rolled cigarette, early on the morning of March 23, 2011.

Suddenly, someone grabbed him by the arm.

“He was a short, stocky Hispanic guy, dressed in a black leather jacket, boots, and jeans,” Patrick says. “And I think he had a black fleece pullover.”

The man grabbed him and dragged him toward a brick wall.

“He said, ‘Come here, I want to talk to you,’ ” he recalls. Patrick shakes his head as he retells the story. “And I’m like a meek guy, and he’s a big, football-player-type guy.”

The man was looking back and forth as he pushed Patrick up against a wall. He leaned up close to Patrick’s face and yelled at him: “What the gently caress do you think you’re doing here?”

Patrick is not a New Yorker. He had no experience here. He’d obviously been warned that he was hanging out in a dangerous neighborhood, but this was broad daylight, the morning, next to a subway station entrance.

“What?” Patrick said in response. “What do you mean?”

“What the gently caress do you think you’re doing here?” the man repeated.

Then, “out of nowhere,” Patrick recounts, two more men arrived. They were both stocky guys, wearing the same kind of getup: boots, jeans, leather jackets. They surrounded Patrick.

By this time, Patrick was convinced he was being robbed. He reached to his pocket, to get out whatever money he had. “Look,” he said, the panic in his voice rising, “I’ve got about ten dollars—”

The first man swatted Patrick’s hand away. “Don’t you put your loving hand in your pocket!” he screamed, pushing Patrick up against the wall really hard.

Now Patrick’s mind was racing. If they didn’t want money, what did they want? “Was I just about to get beaten up, or what?” he says. “I didn’t know.” He quickly looked around and saw a couple of people on the street. Plus, across the street, there was a brand-new apartment building, and he could see through the glass of the first floor a bunch of Hasidic women and their children.

“Help me!” Patrick screamed. “Help! Help!”

Nobody helped.

He screamed toward the Hasidic women in particular: Help me, call the cops!

Nothing.

At this point, one of the three men pulled out a set of handcuffs. Patrick involuntarily flashed to a movie he had just seen days before, the absurd Liam Neeson B thriller Taken, and all he could think about was the strange plot about a young person being kidnapped and sold overseas into white slavery. He also suddenly remembered being on tour in Brazil and hearing stories about people being kidnapped for their organs.

“To me, something bad was going to happen,” he says. “I thought a van would pull up, someone would throw me in it, and nobody would ever know what happened to me. My kidneys will be on eBay.”

Patrick gamely tried to flee. The three men chased after him and knocked him to the ground. One of them reached under his shirt and pulled out a “badge,” but the badge was turned around, so all Patrick could see was the clasp pin on the reverse side of a piece of metal, a flimsy thing that made the whole contraption look homemade.

“To me, it looked like a safety pin,” Patrick says. “I thought, ‘That poo poo’s fake.’ And I thought, ‘If these guys have a fake badge, then they’re some kind of professionals.’ So I got up and tried to run away.”

They tackled him again and began slamming his head against the sidewalk. They hit him repeatedly, and blood started spouting from his head.

Patrick managed to get up once or twice, preventing them from getting the second hand in cuffs. They had cuffed one hand by then. But finally he was tackled for the last time and put in a headlock by his first attacker. He heard the man say, “Don’t resist, it’ll be bad.” Then Patrick blacked out, or semi–blacked out.

His next memory is sitting on the street, up against a wall, Indian style, his hands cuffed. And he saw a police car coming up. A uniformed cop popped out of the car, came up to him. Patrick had been crying, out of terror before, but now out of relief.

“Oh, my God,” he said, almost in a begging tone. “Thank God you’re here, thank God you’re here. Help me! These guys, they were acting like cops—”

The uniform cop leaned down to Patrick.

“Shut the gently caress up,” he said.

Patrick nearly passed out in shock. It was the first time it had ever even occurred to him that his attackers might actually have been police. Now he realized, with a cold shiver, that he was in really serious trouble, though he didn’t know why.

The uniformed officer looked at the three attackers—undercover officers, Patrick now realized—and said, “You guys got this?”

Yeah, we got this, they said.

The uniform walked down the street, leaving Patrick with his original attackers. From there, they started in on him. They picked him up, took his hat off, threw the hat on the ground, then started searching his pockets, tossing each item into the hat. They found the pouch of rolling tobacco. Then they looked on the ground and found the rolled cigarette Patrick had been smoking and pulled it apart—all tobacco.

Undercover #1: “This wasn’t it, right?”

Undercover #2: “No, that wasn’t it.”

They threw the cigarette on the ground. Then the second man made a show of walking over toward the subway station entrance, reaching down to the space between the station entrance and the street, and “picking up” a third object. In fact, Patrick saw, he took the thing out of his pocket, rather than picking it up off the street.

He tossed it into the hat.

The uniform came back from down the street. Patrick shouted at him, “They’re trying to frame me! Do something!”

The uniform looked back at him with expressionless eyes. “Why don’t you try to be a loving man?” he said.

Patrick squirmed over toward the hat close enough to see that there was a sort of pill bottle in it now, with something inside. It would later turn out that the object inside the bottle was an empty vial of what had once been crack.

Patrick would spend much of the next years turning over the absurdity of the situation in his head. Who carries around an empty crack vial? “Was I going to get free refills?” he asks now.

The next thing he knew, a marked police van showed up. They threw him in there, handcuffed tightly, and as the van pulled away, Patrick started to lose the feeling in his fingers.

A new sort of panic came over him. He was a professional saxophonist; neurological damage to his fingers could ruin his life permanently. He started kicking and screaming.

Finally the cop driving the van stopped, came around to the back, and opened the door. “I’m going to open these cuffs up a little bit,” he said. “But if you yell one more time, I’m going to put you in the hospital.”

In the van, the undercovers started going through Patrick’s phone. They found texts from Lauren. They started asking questions. “What are you doing down here?” they asked.

Patrick’s father, a country lawyer in Kentucky, would later admonish his son for opening his mouth at all during this sequence.

But Patrick answered, “My girl lives down here.”

“Oh, yeah?” said one, almost accusatorily. “What, are you dating a sister?”

“No,” Patrick said. “She just moved here from Michigan.…”

“Really?” said one of them. “What’s her address? We’ll go check on her sometime, if you like. We’ll go check and see how she’s doing.”

Patrick froze. “No. That’s okay, I’m fine.”

They took him back to a precinct house and threw him into a cell, where he waited by himself. He yelled: What’s going on?

Finally, the first undercover, the man who attacked him, came into the cell and started talking. “I know what you’re doing,” he said. “You’re screaming so you can get out of this. But we got you.”

Patrick, genuinely confused, looked back. “Man, what did you get me for? I have no idea what I’ve been arrested for. Please, just tell me what I’ve been arrested for.”

“Buddy,” he said, “we’ve got you for everything.”

Everything?

“We got you for crack. We got you for weed. And you reached for my belt. That’s a felony. You’re going to jail for three to six.”

He left Patrick to stew on that for a few more hours. Finally they transferred him to central booking.

“It was like a truck stop bathroom, with forty of your closest friends,” he says. He stayed there for twenty-four hours, during which time he was fingerprinted and photographed. A million things went through his mind. He spoke to his father by phone, who got him a private lawyer, who in turn got him arraigned and out of there.

During the whole time he was in jail, everyone Patrick spoke to—police, other prisoners, even his own lawyer—said exactly the same thing to him. They told him not to worry, it’d be fine, but that they just “had to run him through the system.”

Nobody so much as batted an eyelid about what had happened. This was just a thing that went on—he just had to go through the motions now and not get emotional about it. In fact, the number-one reaction he got from everyone he appealed to during this time was annoyance that he was making a big deal about it. Take your charge, take your medicine, and shut the hell up.

“The casualness of it was what got me,” he says now. “Everybody was acting the same way, like it was no big deal.”

When Patrick was being photographed, he saw that the original charges were possession of a controlled substance, possession of marijuana, and resisting. By the time he was arraigned, the marijuana charge had been dropped, replaced by a tampering-with-evidence charge.

A few weeks later Patrick went back to court, and the judge immediately gave him an ACD, meaning the whole thing would go away, provided he didn’t get “in trouble” again in the next six months. Under the circumstances even an ACD was monstrous, but it was the best possible outcome in a system that’s designed to arrest and detain first, then sort out the crime later.

Patrick was never the same after that incident.

Almost immediately after it happened, he started having nightmares. He’d wake up in the middle of the night, ready to defend himself against attack. He’d leap out of bed, physically jumping up.

Or he’d have panic attacks, long periods of near-total paralysis, heart racing, anxiety through the roof. And even when he was fine, the panic attacks would sometimes take so much out of him, he’d be too drained to be fully functional.

“A good friend would be telling me something really important to him,” he says, “and I would just be like, ‘Uh-huh.’ I couldn’t be the way I wanted to be with people. I stopped going out, which doesn’t sound like much, but for a musician, networking is kind of important.

“I started going to therapy. And I found out that what I was experiencing was post-traumatic stress disorder.”

Patrick in person seems strong, pleasant, and put together, a mature, responsible young man about to get married, his life still going on.

But he’s had something taken from him. He seems like the kind of person who wants to be a peaceful, positive presence in everyone’s life, but he can’t be that to everyone anymore, not always anyway, and it obviously troubles him. “The weird thing is, it’s not like I’m angry at the cops,” he says. “It’ll come out in an argument with my girlfriend, or at the guy who cut in line in front of me a little while ago.”

He shakes his head. “It changed my life forever.”

A collateral consequence, but this is the kind we’ve decided we can live with.

Of course this reads like a shocker story only because Patrick Jewell is a white, college-educated musician. Imagine the same story a few hundred thousand times over, and you’re starting to plug into the ordinary urban nonwhite experience. And that, too, is a collateral consequence we’ve decided we can live with.

Patrick Jewell most likely was some plainclothes policeman’s fleeting visual error—a rolled cigarette mistaken from a distance as a joint. But instead of simply walking up to him and asking him what he was smoking, law enforcement’s first move was to assault him, then frame him, toss him in jail, and run him all the way through the system without apology, rather than admit the mistake.

Patrick’s arrest was the essence of stop-and-frisk, which itself was the perfect symbol of the new stats-based approach to city policing. You throw a big net over a whole city region, bounce some heads off sidewalks, then throw back the little fish. Almost as important (and this aspect of it is little discussed), you gather intelligence with each catch.

The thing is, this particular ocean, to push the metaphor a bit further, is getting overfished. So they’re trawling more remote waters, the nets being cast are wider. Which is a fancy way of saying that it’s not just blacks from Bed-Stuy or Hispanic workers in rural Georgia or Mexican single moms living out of vans who are getting the treatment.

Being white and middle class never meant your kids breezed into Yale with a C average. That kind of privilege was always reserved for a special kind of wealth. But it did once mean that police would think twice before bouncing your head off a sidewalk. Not anymore.

Matt Taibbi, the Divide posted:

There are thousands of other things at work here, but the last straw in every great social tragedy is always something absurd like this, like the nation’s top law enforcement officials unable to spot the greatest crime wave of a generation, because they can’t see the victims from their offices.

The problem is, if the law is applied unequally enough over a long enough period of time, at some point, law enforcement becomes politically illegitimate. Whole classes of arrests become (circle one) illegal, improper, morally unenforceable.

We have to be really close to that point now. Too many of the same damning themes keep jumping out.

TheDon01
Mar 8, 2009


Epic High Five posted:

Forever War loving rules, especially the fully automated gay luxury communism bit

never read Lucifer's Hammer but it sounds pretty bad, you made a good call in switching up

If you like Forever War check out Return from the Stars next, it also deals with culture shock from time dilation but it's all post-war, and also Stanislaw Lem is a gem of a writer who doesn't get enough love

The only Lem I've read was Solaris. It was good, but slow and not an action packed book at all. Does he have any other notable scifi books?

I also picked up Echopraxia and have The Divide on order from the local bookstore. Ill be reading one of those two next. Depends on how quick it arrives.

TheDon01 has issued a correction as of 18:52 on Jan 8, 2018

Epic High Five
Jun 5, 2004



TheDon01 posted:

The only Lem I've read was Solaris. It was good, but slow and not an action packed book at all. Does he have any other notable scifi books?

I also picked up Echopraxia and have The Divide on order from the local bookstore. Ill be reading one of those two next. Depends on how quick it arrives.

I haven't read terribly much of his yet, but what I've read has been more contemplative than action packed, though the "it's all talking" doesn't approach Asimovian levels or anything.

There's also the first half of Starship Troopers, which is a fun read as long as you stop when he gets to Officer School

GalacticAcid
Apr 8, 2013

NEW YORK VALUES
This book doesn't have enough explosions!

Good soup!
Nov 2, 2010

This is a good thread.

Helsing
Aug 23, 2003

DON'T POST IN THE ELECTION THREAD UNLESS YOU :love::love::love: JOE BIDEN
Every excerpt from The Divide that I'm seeing posted here seems really good and I'm tempted to buy the book. However, I'm not a huge fan of long-form journalism that leans too heavily on first person narration. In the past I've struggled to get into Taibbi's writing because so many of the sentences start with "I", "I went here, I saw this, I did that, I spoke to X, I spoke to Y" etc. Can anyone comment on how The Divide is written? If I opened a copy of the book and flipped to a random page how likely would it be that the first thing I'd read would be a paragraph started with "I"?

sat on my keys!
Oct 2, 2014

Helsing posted:

Every excerpt from The Divide that I'm seeing posted here seems really good and I'm tempted to buy the book. However, I'm not a huge fan of long-form journalism that leans too heavily on first person narration. In the past I've struggled to get into Taibbi's writing because so many of the sentences start with "I", "I went here, I saw this, I did that, I spoke to X, I spoke to Y" etc. Can anyone comment on how The Divide is written? If I opened a copy of the book and flipped to a random page how likely would it be that the first thing I'd read would be a paragraph started with "I"?

He does describe his impressions of visiting Rikers or sitting in a courtroom, but it's much less "I" focused than most of his articles, I'd say.

SKULL.GIF
Jan 20, 2017


Helsing posted:

Every excerpt from The Divide that I'm seeing posted here seems really good and I'm tempted to buy the book. However, I'm not a huge fan of long-form journalism that leans too heavily on first person narration. In the past I've struggled to get into Taibbi's writing because so many of the sentences start with "I", "I went here, I saw this, I did that, I spoke to X, I spoke to Y" etc. Can anyone comment on how The Divide is written? If I opened a copy of the book and flipped to a random page how likely would it be that the first thing I'd read would be a paragraph started with "I"?

Taibbi does use it but primarily as a transition tool. I can think of 3-4 instances in the book where he uses it to transition away from a chapter into the next topic. The biggest part is when he goes to a courthouse to see how the sausage is made, and that's about.. 30 or 40 pages or so? Hard to estimate page count on the Kindle.

Most of the book is him conveying experiences from people who've been screwed by the system, like Patrick Jewell above or the deported people from earlier in the thread, or writing about financial crimes (in the third person).

For what it's worth, I'm kind of picky about my writers. Taibbi's writing isn't great but it's unobstructive and lets me focus on the content of what he's writing about.

GoluboiOgon
Aug 19, 2017

by Nyc_Tattoo

TheDon01 posted:

The only Lem I've read was Solaris. It was good, but slow and not an action packed book at all. Does he have any other notable scifi books?

I also picked up Echopraxia and have The Divide on order from the local bookstore. Ill be reading one of those two next. Depends on how quick it arrives.

Lem is pretty awesome. I really like all of his "Tales of Pilot Pirx" (space opera, but very well done), and "The Futurolgical Congress" (amusing farce about mind control drugs).

Also, Philip K Dick thought that Lem wasn't a real person, and his works were actually written by a secret committee of communist writers to propagandize americans. He went so far as to share this with the FBI.

sonatinas
Apr 15, 2003

Seattle Karate Vs. L.A. Karate

GoluboiOgon posted:

Lem is pretty awesome. I really like all of his "Tales of Pilot Pirx" (space opera, but very well done), and "The Futurolgical Congress" (amusing farce about mind control drugs).

Also, Philip K Dick thought that Lem wasn't a real person, and his works were actually written by a secret committee of communist writers to propagandize americans. He went so far as to share this with the FBI.

The Cyberiad is very good.

uber_stoat
Jan 21, 2001



Pillbug

sonatinas posted:

The Cyberiad is very good.

it is, but as I was reading it I had to wonder how much of it came from the mind of the translator and how much was true to the Polish language text. it's just so full of wordplay and puns and I can't imagine how difficult it must have been to stay true to the original work.

Homeless Friend
Jul 16, 2007
In the chapter about prosecutorial discretion, and how it's basically unreviewable:

The New Jim Crow posted:

The risk that prosecutorial discretion will be racially biased is especially acute in the drug enforcement context, where virtually identical behavior is susceptible to a wide variety of interpretations and responses and the media imagery and political discourse has been so thoroughly racialized. Whether a kid is perceived as a dangerous drug-dealing thug or instead is viewed as a good kid who was merely experimenting with drugs and selling to a few of his friends has to do with the ways in which information about illegal drug activity is processed and interpreted, in a social climate in which drug dealing is racially defined. As a former U.S. Attorney explained:

Excerpt posted:

I had an [assistant U.S. attorney who] wanted to drop the gun charge against the defendant [in a case in which] there were no extenuating circumstances. I asked, “Why do you want to drop the gun offense?” And he said, “‘He’s a rural guy and grew up on a farm. The gun he had with him was a rifle. He’s a good ol’ boy, and all good ol’ boys have rifles, and it’s not like he was a gun-toting drug dealer.” But he was a gun-toting drug dealer, exactly.

That's a lmao

Homeless Friend
Jul 16, 2007
L M A O, chapter on all white juries

The New Jim Crow posted:

the prosecutor offered the following explanation to justify his strikes of black jurors:

Excerpt posted:

I struck [juror] number twenty-two because of his long hair. He had long curly hair. He had the longest hair of anybody on the panel by far. He appeared not to be a good juror for that fact.... Also, he had a mustache and a goatee type beard. And juror number twenty-four also had a mustache and goatee type beard.... And I don’t like the way they looked, with the way the hair is cut, both of them. And the mustaches and the beards look suspicious to me.

GalacticAcid
Apr 8, 2013

NEW YORK VALUES
I love Stalker but I still haven't read Roadside Picnic (the source material).

Do you think I should read Roadside Picnic before or after Zona by Geoff Dyer, his book about Stalker? (If you've never read his work, he tends to take a subject and write discursive but connected essays surrounding that subject. For instance, The Missing of the Somme is about the ways WWI is memorialized and includes ruminations on public architecture, statue design, modern art, ceremonial traditions, etc. It's a lovely work and short enough to read on a moderate inter-city plane or train ride.)

Epic High Five
Jun 5, 2004



Echpraxia was p good

Onto Bill, the Galactic Hero

Epic High Five
Jun 5, 2004



Though more likely, I will be finishing up The Rediscovery of Man, the book honkin 700 page version not the slim version for CUCKS

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Homeless Friend
Jul 16, 2007
remembered i had a paperwhite from like 5 years ago, and found it, hell yeah babyyyyyy

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