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Coolest books you ever found in the Library

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I think librarians are like the most serious of civil libertarians. You got to give them props, they take no prisoners in the First Amendment category. Anyway, coolest books you ever found IN THE LIBRARY. No fair listing shit you got at the Sak 'N' Pak or at the 24 Hour News Stand.


(Latest find.) "Harvard and the Unabomber" by Alston Chase.


Did you know our boy Ted Kaczynski (correct sp) was Harvard educated? Yes indeedy. He's a product of the Ruling Class. Ol' Ted made all manner of shit besides bombs. Made his own pistol from scraps he dumpster-dived. Secret codes that the FBI said were uncrackable unless you had Ted's cipher. Crazy as hell, but EXTREMELY intelligent. Home-brewed explosives, too. Some of his bombs were made completely out of wood, springs and all. He manufactured his own detonators and igniting compounds, too. Crazy fucker.

Read his manifesto. The scarey part is that it actually makes sense. He is one crafty guy.


"The Minutemen." 1960's mlitia organization. Robert DePugh and his merry band. They all went to prison. They couldn't believe that the FBI and the cops would care if they organized against the World Wide Communist Conspiracy. The cops probably wouldn't have cared, except the Minutemen were doing shit like driving around with a live 60mm mortar or a bazooka in the trunk of their car. First rule: Do not break the law. Yeah. One of their wealthiest big supporters owned a foundary in California. Underneath a big concrete slab at the foundary was SIX TONS of arms and munitions. As he grew older, elderly and more frail, he started worrying that somehow or another the arsenal would fall into the hands of criminals or kids. So he called the ATF and 'fessed up. They didn't arrest him. Most of the weapons came from U.S. military stockpiles in the West in the late '50s and early '60s. The Minutemen had some strong ties to U.S. military people. Some people say they still have "as yet undiscovered" stockpiles out in the boondocks. Hmmm.

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Guest chicken bone

I can't remember but back in the day in detention I got put in this room facing a wall (sort of like a cubicle/prison) in the back of the storage room connected to the library and they had all these old books there and I stole some. I remember two of them, Frankenstien by Mary Shelley and Moby Dick by Herman Melville. Classics I say!! Classics!! :)


Oh and at another school during my freshman year I was serving work detail or something of the like and I found hundreds of story-telling books on vinyl (such as Rudyard Kiplings Jungle Book, Edgar Allen Poe, etc...), classical music (Tchiakofsky, wrong spelling I know, blah blah etc...) and hundreds of BBC sound effect records (crazy stuff from the 60's-70's, ie, "glass broken from 3-story building followed by a woman screaming" then the next groove would be like "glass broken from 4-story building followed by a woman screaming",etc...). Also sound effect records of bouncing balls and "space" sounds and lots of cool stuff that I've used to this day whenever I decide to fiddle around in production/music.


That is all, but some good finds if I may say so myself.

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"The Electronic Criminals"


I forgot who it's by, but what an awesome find. It was all about how criminals of today find analog and digital ways to hack into places...



Company A has an electronic keypad to enter a restricted area. The criminal discovered the four code combination easily. How? Each of the four numbers had dirty fingerprints.

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i dont know the exact story, but some one found a complete book

of los caprichos, or the disasters of war, by goya, in a library. it had

fallen behind the stacks and was eventually discovered a number of

years later by some lucky reader...



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A Little Off-Topic


But this thread is falling down the stack anyway, so I guess it's okay. When I was in high-school in 1969, I got held back one semester, because I didn't have enough math credits to graduate. (I was a math phobic, all because I was spacing out the day the teacher taught fractions, back in the fifth grade. In order to do algebra, you must understand fractions. I didn't, so I couldn't. Do algebra, that is.)


Anyway, I had American History I and Consumer Math and four classes of art, with my high-school "angel teacher," Miss Filson, who made life bearable by being the only genuine intellectual in the entire school. She was almost ready for retirement. She travelled in Europe every summer, and had a very sweet, tolerant attitude towards me, because she thought I had a genuine artistic talent.


The American HistoryI course was a freshman course that I failed when I was a freshman--I was the only senior in a class full of children, one of whom was Ezra Idlet, of the band "Trout Fishing in America." Little did I know that tall, skinny, young kid was going to be such a fucking GREAT entertainer. He and Keith Grimwood totally rock---acoustic music that is very funny, extremely intellectual and a hell of a lot of fun. If you ever get a chance, check them out. Keith tried to teach me to juggle once at a barbeque, but I couldn't do it for shit.


Anyway. I was trying hard to pass the goddamn Consumer Math class, so I could graduate. My running buddy, Greg, was in the class too. We were surf buddies, but Greg had recently bought a Norton motorcycle, and was trying to prospect for the then-new Bandidos MC, in the Mother Chapter in Kemah, not too far from Freeport, where we surfed. Miss Filson was basically giving me a base of operations in her art classes, where I spent most of my time, but I got shanghai'ed into a study hall to "make up" a class. In order for the school to pay a teacher to run a study hall class, they had to have 25 students. So the vice-principal rounded up all the malcontents and stuck them in the study hall class in the back, where we just slept. The three or four students who genuinely wanted to study were sort of huddled up by the teacher's desk. We had a sort of agreement with him---"Don't cause any problem or make any noise and I'll ignore you."


It was boring as shit. After a couple of days, a very pretty girl with long, dark hair showed up and announced that the Library Club needed volunteer members for this period, and if any of the study hall draftees wanted to join, we could get out of study hall. "Hell, yes." I volunteered.


The Library Club was the absolute geekiest group in the school, even lower on the cool scale than people like the French Club, or the Debate Club. Basically, they provided unpaid staff at the school library to stamp dates in borrowed books and collect those little cards from the back pocket where the studentb signs his name. The crazy thing is, nobody had a student I.D. card, so you could just sign whatever name you wanted, but I don't think many people did that. I knew most of the bad actors in school, and they gave me shit for being in the Library Club. I really didn't care, but I got into an argument about it while manning the main desk, and I told the guy to get out of the Library or I'd kick his ass, and to show more respect for people who wanted to actually learn something.


This was pretty funny, coming from me, since everybody in the school, including all the teachers and the principal and vice-principal, knew that I was a dope-smoking, anarchist, anti-war protesting freak that HATED school, LOL. I would not stand for the Pledge of Allegiance, and acted like a dick during the morning prayer being read over the P.A. system. My teachers all hated me, except for Miss Filson. Most of my grades were "F's" or "D's", except for Art, where I got straight "A's."


The dark-haired girl (let's call her Jessica) was always very distant with me. I figured she thought I was an asshole who sneaked into her precious Library (she actually took the Library Club seriously) and seemed to hold me in a good deal of contempt.


On my very last day of school, I was hitch-hiking home in front of the school, and a Volkswagen pulled up and a couple of guys got out and held the seat forward for me to ride in the back---it was Jessica and some of her Junior friends! "Want a ride?" she said. "Get in!" Okay. I got in and they gave me a ride of about a half-mile or so, to where I had to turn south.

Jessica was very nice to me, I couldn't believe it. She asked me what I was going to do that summer, and was I going to California again (how'd she know that?) Finally, when it was time for me to get out, she said "Wait a second," and gave me a big kiss as I was backing out the door. I was totally fucking shocked.


I was standing outside the car, they slammed the doors, and she waved, and I thought "WHAT THE HELL?" and then I yelled "Hey! WHAT'S YOUR PHONE NUMBER?" but she was gone, in a puff of VW exhaust. The last thing I remember her saying was "Have a great summer!" as she smiled and waved out the window.


That was thirty-four years ago. I remember it like it was yesterday.


Wierd. One kiss, and she's part of my life forever. Whenever I hear oldies "summer tunes" on the radio, like "See You in September" (Shelley Fabares--she dated Elvis) or "All Summer Long" by the Beach Boys, I always think of Jessica, 17 years old and beautiful---forever.

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I visited a librabry in the Bronx that is by appointment only. It is an old library with books that dated back to the 1500's - most of the really valuable ones are kept in a special vault but totally accesable. This is likely the most significant historical place I have ever been in and I have been in many up and down the east coast. None-the-less the coolest thing was the guest book which was thicker than a phone book and had signatures dating back to the early 1800's. These signatures were so smooth, stylized and well practiced it was embarrasing to flip forward in the book and watch as the skills of writing gradually deteriorated into what honestly looked like a childs handwriting.

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King Bling, you are one perceptive, astute thinking guy. Very cool. This post ^ makes me want to deliberately improve my handwriting. I wish I could type. Need to work on that, too.

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Guest uncle-boy

Spraycan Art




i remember finding this thing in the local public library when i was in elementary school. it tripped me out to see this kinda stuff, especially coming from hawaii (a place with hardly any graffiti). i looked at it tons of times, even other kids at my school would borrow it and stuff. then about 9 years later, and after only a 1 and a half years of actually writing, i was talking to my homie about the book and how cool it was that everyone in our little town who had any interest in graff had seen it. and he busted it out, that fucker had taken it a while back and still had it. it was awsome because all the people who borrowed it had done their tags in it. most are ghetto tags and stuff, but it was neat to come across it after all those years. i still have it. hee hee.


edit* fixed the pic

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come on dude...


Originally posted by Zee_Zee

my girlfriend just bought me fahrenheit 472


you're not doing yourself any favors by making up some random number because you can't remember the title of the book.


it's fahrenheit 451 by ray bradbury.




to keep on topic, i found a "history of mercedes-benz" book at a shitty ass community college school library. it was printed in london in 1955 following the domination of mercedes racing that year... the year in which the factory team withdrew from racing having completed all goals set forth by the engineers. fascinating book, i learned a great deal about the roots of the world's first automobile company, with is basically the roots of the automobile. Gottlieb Daimler and Karl Benz were grandmaster engineers.

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451 isnt that the temo that books burn at?



I hate to get off topic but i'll tell you all the shittiest book i ever got from the library.


OLD MAN AND THE SEA. I never would have thought that hemmingway would have made such a bullshit book. I've reread it since i've been older and i still hate it. Its written masterfully, dont get me wrong but its the most boring story i've ever read.


Maybe im just missing something

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It's a cliche, but I loved it in 1967


"For Whom the Bell Tolls." good ol' Ernest Hemingway. He was a phoney, but I like his shit anyway.


Another good one, from that same period was "Across the River and Through the Trees." Another Hemingway war novel.


There were a great number of war novels written after WWII by young intellectuals who joined the service out of either patriotism or political/social principles. Remember, we were fighting the Nazis, so once the Hitler/Stalin Pact of 1939 was over, young, American, Communists and socialists flocked into the armed forces to fight fascism. I knew an old Wobbly here in Houston who told me several of their older members, who had fought in WWI, volunteered to go to Spain and teach specific military skills, like operating a machinegun to the Republicans. (The Spanish Republic, of course.)


Leon Uris was a young, American Jew who joined the Marines, and we got "Battle Cry" (made into a great movie), "Mila 18" (loved it--the Jewish Underground against the Nazis in the Warsaw Ghetto), "Armageddon", "The Milta Pass" and "Exodus" which was a fucking good movie too, about the formation of the State of Israel.


I liked John Dos Passos and John Steinbeck, too. One of my favorite novels, "Cannery Row," was actually written about someone I met briefly who was a marine biologist. I liked "Tortilla Flat," too, which was a sort of sequel to "Cannery Row," I guess.


Dos Passos' "Manhattan Transfer" was a major novel of it's day, and the way he wrote it, the devices he used were hot shit back then. Today, it's kind of dated, but it was great, innovative writing in, like, 1925. He was part of that same group as Hemingway--WWI veterans who were part of the so-called Lost Generation in Paris , after the war. They became left-wing, in general. Some great anarchist organizing happened in that same fertile field, too, especially in Spain.


Come to think of it, Leon Uris probably had a lot to do with me joining the Marine Corps, as I read "Battle Cry" when I was about 12, in 1962. It was published in 1953 (I was 3 years old), only seven years after Uris left the Marine Corps, I think. In it's day, it was completely shocking, because of it's brutally realistic portrayal of Marine Corps life.

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SO, how do you call Hemingway a phony?


and just an FYI, Hemingway's second wife is now (or was until very recently) a librarian in Key West, though they never lived there at the same time.

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I don't know, Smart. I just can't see one of Hemingways' characters pussin' out and swallowing a shotgun barrel. All that macho running-with-the-bulls shit, and then he sucks on a 12 gauge in Idaho? Come on. But he did have some FINE ASS grandaughters, for sure.

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