I love when I'm halfway through the first paragraph and a giant popup covers my screen. I have to wait for it to load in (because they had to make it a nice transition). Then I have to figure out how to close it.
I have no idea what the popup said but I completely forgot what I reading. That's enough of that website.
"Please don't complain about website formatting, back-button breakage, and similar annoyances. They're too common to be interesting. Exception: when the author is present. Then friendly feedback might be helpful."
Maybe so, but please don't post unsubstantive comments to HN. If you want to say what you think Lawrence was right about, and why, that might be ok—it depends on how interesting a.k.a. unexpected it turns out to be.
But since flamewars are off topic, you'd want to be careful to avoid nationalistic (in this case) flamebait.
With one side of him he saw with true imaginative clarity the ruinous course the world was set on—‘as if a whole social form were breaking down, and the human element swarmed within the disintegration, like maggots in cheese ... so that it seems as though we had created a steel framework, and the whole body of society were crumbling and rotting in between’. But all he had to offer in the way of a solution were the sick phallic fantasies and perversities of quasi-impotence, carried in his last novel, Lady Chatterley's Lover, to a pitch of absurdity seldom, if ever before, equalled.
He was one of those men, tragic and gifted, who work out in themselves the conflicts and dilemmas of their time; who are themselves our own fever and pain. In Lawrence’s case, his sickness became the cult of succeeding generations; Lady Chatterley, sponsored by a motley collection of writers, clerics and miscellaneous intelligentsia, was the progenitor of a torrent of porno-eroticism which her creator would have found deeply abhorrent, and incidentally so enriched her publisher in the process that his shares were quoted on the Stock Exchange as Chatterleys.
Malcolm Muggeridge on Lawrence in Chronicles of Wasted Time
At the risk of being just an old man yelling at clouds, it is really sad to see what burning man has become since becoming a for profit company in 2013.
The last time I attended was in 2015 and the vibe just wasn't the same anymore.
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[ 3.4 ms ] story [ 38.8 ms ] threadhttps://github.com/StevenBlack/hosts
https://addons.mozilla.org/en-US/firefox/addon/ublock-origin...
https://news.ycombinator.com/newsguidelines.html
But since flamewars are off topic, you'd want to be careful to avoid nationalistic (in this case) flamebait.
He was one of those men, tragic and gifted, who work out in themselves the conflicts and dilemmas of their time; who are themselves our own fever and pain. In Lawrence’s case, his sickness became the cult of succeeding generations; Lady Chatterley, sponsored by a motley collection of writers, clerics and miscellaneous intelligentsia, was the progenitor of a torrent of porno-eroticism which her creator would have found deeply abhorrent, and incidentally so enriched her publisher in the process that his shares were quoted on the Stock Exchange as Chatterleys.
Malcolm Muggeridge on Lawrence in Chronicles of Wasted Time
The last time I attended was in 2015 and the vibe just wasn't the same anymore.