Burroughs apparently used the CTul logic family for some of its mainframes.

CTul was somewhat like ECL ( see my ECL rant ) but yet completely unlike it. It was a strange RTL-like logic with open emitter output. It was incredibly power hungry, a chip left powered up without a hurricanes' worth of cold air blasting over it could get too hot to touch. I don't believe that anybody other than Burroughs ever used this logic family.

I'm not familiar with it, though it does seem to be the dark spawn of Shub-Niggurath. Who knew that the Necronomicon contained descriptions of electronic circuits?

Here's a joke. Do you know what a Cthulu cookbook is called?















The Necronomnomnomicon.

I've done enough for one day.

Labels: computers, H. P. Lovecraft, humor, literature

Back that Kickstarter, the man puts out some good stuff.

Labels: literature

Labels: jewish, literature, morality

Raskolinkov and Marmeladov:

"Why do you go?" put in Raskilnikov.

"Well, when one has no one, nowhere else one can go!. For every man must have somewhere to go. Since there are times when one absolutely must go somewhere!"

Labels: literature, quotes

—Then—said Cranley—you do not intend to become a protestant?—

—I said that I had lost the faith—Stephen answered—but not that I had lost selfrespect. What kind of liberation would that be to forsake an absurdity which is logical and coherent and to embrace one which is illogical and incoherent?—

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, p. 287 in the 1928 Modern Library edition.

Labels: catholic, literature, quotes

Looks like another volume or two of weird tales is in the works. Awesome!

Labels: literature

You don't want to be left with just JFK and Stalin.

Do note that the link is to Memebase.

Labels: literature, nonplussed and friends

A great use for ties that may have been cast into the outer void.

Labels: humor, literature

The original hipster.

Labels: humor, literature

I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes I sped;
And shot, precipitated,
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmèd fears,
From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
But with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbéd pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat—and a Voice beat
More instant than the Feet—
“All things betray thee, who betrayest Me.”

Francis Thompson (1859-1907)

Labels: literature, poetry, random

A by and large statement, a maxim, a less-than-100% argument.

Labels: literature, random

The Times reports on the rather strange occurance of Robert Ludlum continuing to write books for years after his death, a process still ongoing. No, the publishers havne't employed mediums (media?) to contanct the dead author. Yet. But apparently ghostwriting is in.

I guess there's no harm to it, but something seems off-kilter to me. It's a strange sort of literary immortality. One of my favorite authors as a kid, John Bellairs, has the same setup. I enjoy the books, but sometimes I think it would be better if people would just write as themselves and let the characters create the sense of continuity.

Labels: literature