Insomniac code gorilla. I help maintain lemmy-ui and, to a lesser extent, Lemmy’s backend.

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Joined 1 year ago
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Cake day: April 21st, 2024

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  • I’ve been going through this. I’m currently on History of the C.P.S.U. (B). There are a shit ton of books on the list and it has them organized into levels going from beginner, intermediate, advanced, and very advanced. Each level has 3 or 4 trimesters, each with a generous selection of works to read. It also has a background reading section for pre-beginners. While the background reading list has some of the usual suspects like the 'Festo, Socialism: Utopian and Scientific, and Stalin’s introductory text Dialectical and Historical Materialism, it also has some lesser seen picks like works that Adoratsky and Cornforth made on dialectical materialism.

    Speaking of lesser seen picks, there are some works on several of the levels I don’t normally see mentioned here or on Hexbear, like the Shanghai textbook on political economy, Documents of the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution, some Plekhanov, some Lukacs, some of Gramsci’s works that aren’t his prison notebooks, etc.






















  • This reminds me of a copypasta

    No, everything has to be serious at all times and we cannot find any humor in the absurdity of hell world. The last time I smiled was on August 19th, 1991. I wear a dirty ushanka at all times, do not shave, and only take cold sponge baths because hot running water is bourgeoisie decadence. Every day at exactly noon I have the same meal of an expired Maoist MRE I store in a pit covered in old issues of a revolutionary newspaper. I sleep in a bed made of flags from every failed revolution so that they are never forgotten. In the evenings I stare at a picture of vodka by candlelight, but I do not allow myself to drink because there is nothing to celebrate. Every local org has banned me after I attempted to split it by assassinating the leadership. There is no plumbing in my house I shit in a brass bucket with a picture of Gonzalo and Deng french kissing in the bottom of it. My house is actually an overturned T34 in an abandoned junkyard in Wisconsin. I have a single friend in this world and it is a tapeworm named Bordiga that I met after ingesting spoiled borscht on 9/11 in the ruins of building 7 (I blew it up after finding that a nominally leftist NGO inside of it wasn’t sufficiently anti-imperialist, the attacks on the world trade center were a perfect revolutionary moment for me to enact direct praxis against liberalism). My source of income is various MLM schemes in the former soviet bloc that have been running for so long no one remembers who I am, they just keep sending money. I have not paid taxes since McGovern lost the Democratic nomination for president and my faith in electoralism died more brutally than my childhood dog after it got into an entire jar of tylenol. I own 29 fully automatic rusted kalashnikovs and three crates of ammunition entirely incompatible with them or any other firearms I own. My double PHD in marxist economics and 18th century Swiss philosophy (required to understand Engels) sits over the fireplace of my home, my fireplace is a salvaged drum from a 1950s washing machine that was recalled for locking children inside of it. I chose that washing machine model on purpose because I am anti-natalist. During the latest BLM protests I firebombed a Nikes outlet in the middle of a peaceful candlelit vigil. William F Buckley and I wrote hatemail to one another for 47 years until my final letter gave him an aneurysm. The only water I drink is from puddles. George Lucas and I dropped acid together during an MKULTRA southern baptist summer camp and he went on to write the movie Willow about our time together. The best way to test whether an electrical wire is live is to drool on it and shrimp salad is racist. You can make an IED out of potassium and the instructions are online thanks to Timothy McVey, who was actually a committed antifascist communist slandered by the deep state as part of operation condor. Every time a liberal files a restraining order against me, I carve a mark into the wall. I am running out of walls. When Amerika finally collapses I will be ready to lead the revolution. I am very smart and people like being around me.

    Joking aside, I think your friend probably has a point. The average westoid is a treatlerite little eichmann, often I fear myself included since I barely leave the house. I don’t have any theoretical basis to build this on though (too much entertainment media?), so I’ll defer to any of the people here who actually touch grass organizing and maybe still consoom entertainment.