blinkandwheeze posted:note that this might have limited applicability outside of the geological formations of shaanxi province. will be interested to hear any readers reporting back on their experience.
i got karst, ill check it out and get back to you
i do not have loess. bears further inquiries
Edited by zhaoyao ()
it took me a year to get through half of Anti-Oedipus, but it's so worth it:
nomogram posted:karst is just the earth doing self-harm
it took me a year to get through half of Anti-Oedipus, but it's so worth it:
it's going to take me a year to decipher that quote, i'm curious wtf it means to you in your words
look dude its the odd couple
Lenin walks around the world.
Frontiers cannot bar him.
Neither barracks nor barricades impede.
Nor does barbed wire scar him.
Lenin walks around the world.
Black, brown, and white receive him.
Language is no barrier.
The strangest tongues believe him.
Lenin walks around the world.
The sun sets like a scar.
Between the darkness and the dawn
There rises a red star.
by langston hughes
just liked it and couldn't think of anywhere better to post it
A very good case study of how fatal a bad position on the national question in Ireland is. In their attempt to move away from Irish republicanism and towards a Marxist-Leninist vanguard party, most of the older IRA leadership ended up ultimately aligning themselves with Unionist death squads, the Northern Irish police and Britain against the Provisional IRA and INLA's so called "fascist terror". This was all in the interest of appearing "non-sectarian".
They gradually embraced reformist parliamentarism, and eventually all of their parliamentary representatives split and formed a new party, abandoning socialism permanently. They used the collapse of the eastern bloc as an excuse as many parties did of course. Today the party is totally irrelevant, disliked by most. A shame that they were the one's getting the weapons from North Korea, though the Provisionals were always rather skeptical about socialism unfortunately.
At the very beginning of the Troubles at least the Officials did some good work in terms of defending catholic neighbourhoods from attacks, fighting the British army in the streets and so on. But after their supposed ceasefire in 1972 they spent more time shooting other Republicans and robbing banks then they did fighting imperialism. And as time went on even the police were looking the other way from the groups activities, seeing them as a useful tool against the Provos.
They weren't the only socialists who came to similarly tortured and ridiculous views. The British and Irish Communist Organisation were a supposedly Maoist organisation that came to the conclusion that the British Army must be given critical support against the bloodthirsty Provisionals who were doing nothing but terrorising the populace. BICO also came to the conclusion that there were 2 nations in Ireland, the Irish and the Ulster Unionists, which of course was exactly what Unionists wanted to promote.
The whole thing is rather bizarre, and it ended up in a situation where the majority of the Maoists and Marxist-Leninists in Ireland were objectively aligned with British Imperialism and openly supporting the northern Irish police to "restore order", while most of the Irish Trotskyists were defending the anti-imperialist struggle, to the point where the Worker's Party were calling them Provo-Trots.
or, alternatively:
Good Lines mean Good Times.
Party time? No Thanks, Too Busy Arguing the Party Line
swampman posted:
lmao
In Shields’s marriage, coldness reigns—or so he tells us. (In the past he has made much of his own unreliability as a narrator.) His wife doesn’t even like his books, and that’s how he wants it, though it’s also a source of constant anxiety. He praises her “icy temperament” and mostly addresses her in the form of wheedling questions, as if he’s playing Jeopardy! in hell: “Why do you always check to see how much I leave for a tip?” “Why don’t you have a single photo of me anywhere in the house?” “Why do all your favorite books about marriage include a dead spouse?”
Petrol posted:coldness reigns
get it over with already. put the dog down.
In this op ed i will
.. impotence of the faculties of concentration and systematisation ... deformity of thought and style, undignified affectation of language ... anglicised vanity ... duping {497} ... barren conceptions which in fact are only bastards of historical and logical fantasy ... deceptive twisting {498} ... personal vanity {499} ... vile mannerisms ... snotty ... buffoonery pretending to be witty ... Chinese erudition {506} ... philosophical and scientific backwardness
pescalune posted:The whole thing is rather bizarre, and it ended up in a situation where the majority of the Maoists and Marxist-Leninists in Ireland were objectively aligned with British Imperialism and openly supporting the northern Irish police to "restore order", while most of the Irish Trotskyists were defending the anti-imperialist struggle, to the point where the Worker's Party were calling them Provo-Trots.
this imo is an underrated reason for the relative and enduring strength of british trotskyism into the 1980s as opposed to the dearth of british marxist-leninists or maoists compared to the rest of europe
Approaching the comic medium as a supercollider for achieving maximum abstraction, in Chronosis artist Keith Tilford and philosopher Reza Negarestani create a graphically stunning and conceptually explosive universe in which the worlds of pop culture, modern art, philosophy, science fiction, and theoretical physics crash into one another.
Taking place after the catastrophic advent of the birth of time, Chronosis narrates the story of a sprawling multiverse at the center of which monazzeins, the monks of an esoteric time-cult, attempt to build bridges between the many fragmented tribes and histories of multiple possible worlds. Across a series of dizzying overlapping stories we glimpse worlds where time flows backward, where the universe can be recreated every five minutes, or where rigid facts are washed away by the tides of an infinite ocean of possibility.
A unique fusion of comics culture and philosophical cogitation, this conceptually and visually mind-expanding tale takes the reader on a dizzying rollercoaster ride through time, space, and thought.
lo posted:who's excited for the reza negarestani comic book?
Approaching the comic medium as a supercollider for achieving maximum abstraction, in Chronosis artist Keith Tilford and philosopher Reza Negarestani create a graphically stunning and conceptually explosive universe in which the worlds of pop culture, modern art, philosophy, science fiction, and theoretical physics crash into one another.
Taking place after the catastrophic advent of the birth of time, Chronosis narrates the story of a sprawling multiverse at the center of which monazzeins, the monks of an esoteric time-cult, attempt to build bridges between the many fragmented tribes and histories of multiple possible worlds. Across a series of dizzying overlapping stories we glimpse worlds where time flows backward, where the universe can be recreated every five minutes, or where rigid facts are washed away by the tides of an infinite ocean of possibility.
A unique fusion of comics culture and philosophical cogitation, this conceptually and visually mind-expanding tale takes the reader on a dizzying rollercoaster ride through time, space, and thought.
Pretty cool
jansenist_drugstore posted:read some garbage fucking article by some neuro-doctor hack named tononi for a class. i started writing something about it when i was drunk last night and probably won't finish it so i'll post it here and will maybe write more later (not a good use of time or energy):
With a theoretical foundation grounded in the impatient short-sightedness of contemporary scientism, the premise of Tononi's Integrated Information Theory fails from the introduction. Unable to reason beyond his elementary appropriation of Cartesian consciousness, he posits, with the learned voice of false authority, that his apperceptual experience of himself as a subject constitutes his consciousness. Somehow this renders his belief in his subjective self-reflection factual. Sweating and panicking for an authoritative assertion, he immediately equates consciousness with subjective experience, and, without fail, is sure to italicize words like here, there, everywhere, etc. With a laughable grasp of know how he thinks Good Philosophers ought to write, he learned from translated, abridged copies of Sartre and Derrida that if you want people to pay attention to you, emphasizing certain words is the first step. But we're talking about consciousness here, and, desperate to appeal to as many readers as possible, he name drops The Beatles' Warner-Brother hallucinogenic trip report that one time they took baby aspirin and sang a stupid fucking song about the whole thing. Realizing that pop-music, on the one hand, increase his likelihood to get featured on stupid podcasts, and on the other, that he might seem like less of a Science Genius, he puts the lab coat back on and briefly references a vague cosmogony and high-powered computers that are closer (!) to passing the Turing test, and that are also able to perform better than “some brain-damaged patients” (if you haven't guessed by now, he's a doctor). It seems to me that he is either unaware that a solar-powered calculator can solve 2+2 faster than someone in a coma, or that he just has no fucking clue what to say. He concludes his introduction by pathetically calling for the urgency to develop “testable and principled manners” of answering the consciousness-problem. He is terrified that AI will surpass him in the near future. We just have to get our hands on consciousness before the computers do!
essentially his theoryis that consciousness is super easy to understand, and that it can be easily broken down into:
1. intrinsic existence (a bizarre combination of the ole' cartesian adage and a poorly understood, contradictory phenomenology)
2. composition
3. information
4. integration
5. exclusion
anyway fuck it all, watch the world explode into nothing as my computer body takes over my mind and i can eat microchips as hors doeuvres and know the lyrics of my favorite songs before hearing ever hearing them
