Billionaire’s class solidarity is just a beautiful thing.
Also: Jack is, and always has been, a lying sack of shit. Like Skum he believes in people’s freedom to harass women, be Nazis, pretty much everything that isn’t critical of his money making scams. He’s always been like that. I believed him the first time after Cathy Sierra was harassed to go offline on his watch, when he contritely said he’d learnt something.
That was 15 years ago though, and I stopped believing that lying sack od shit straight after that.
If I remember this right, he broke Billy Wilder’s ribs. After a routine checkup.
By giving Wilder a bear hug because the checkup’s results were so good.
Then fixed said ribs. And sent Wilder an invoice for it.
Every few years someone makes the discovery that the Nazis were ripped to the tits on drink and drugs. I’m sure there will be a new one like this soon:
He was harassed, but still he spoke with authority. He was, in fact, characteristic of the best type of dominant male in the world at this time. He was fifty-five years old, tough, shrewd, unburdened by the complicated ethical ambiguities which puzzle intellectuals, and had long ago decided that the world was a mean [SOB] in which only the most cunning and ruthless can survive. He was also as kind as was possible for one holding that ultra-Darwinian philosophy; and he genuinely loved children and dogs, unless they were on the site of something that had to be bombed in the National Interest. He still retained some sense of humor, despite the burdens of his almost godly office, and, although he had been impotent with his wife for nearly ten years now, he generally achieved orgasm in the mouth of a skilled prostitute within 1.5 minutes. He took amphetamine pep pills to keep going on his grueling twenty-hour day, with the result that his vision of the world was somewhat skewed in a paranoid direction, and he took tranquilizers to keep from worrying too much, with the result that his detachment sometimes bordered on the schizophrenic; but most of the time his innate shrewdness gave him a fingernail grip on reality.
That’s from Illuminatus by Robert Anton Wilson and Robert Shea, who wrote this about a fictional American president and a similar bit about the Soviet premier. The books were written between 1969 and 1971 while the two of them worked for Playboy. Great books, well written and full of conspiracy, lunacy, sex, drugs, and rock and roll.
Book is bit of a pain to read it jumps around randomly in time and space. As far as remember they do voices on the audiobook so we actually know who we are following.
Of course the length of audiobooks is about 32h 41min.
Well, they were using Burroughs “Cut-up” technique for parts of the work, where you take what you’ve written, cut it into pieces, mix them up, then reassemble randomly the final piece.
