ADD

12 Comments on “ADD”

1. Fast Food Nation – Eric Schlosser; been meaning to read this for a while. Maybe my McDonald’s craving will be quelled at last!
   If that book won’t do it … nothing will :)

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   1. That’s what I hear, anyway. LOL – I don’t even particularly *like* McD’s yet I still want it. I’ve been brainwashed, I tell ya!! LOL

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2. Fast Food Nation
   The Handmaid’s Tale
   I’d be really keen to hear what you think of these books when you’re done.

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   1. The Handmaid’s Tale is the scariest book I have ever read. I mean that very seriously.

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      1. I think I’m going to go looking for it when my schedule eases enough to allow me to read. I think it needs to be added to the “To be read” shelf.

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         1. University library has it. It just went up several levels in the list.

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            1. I’m not joking when I said it’s frightening. Perhaps less so if you’re not an American. This book scared the daylights out of me. You will understand why as soon as you begin reading. It made me want to carve my ovaries out with a teaspoon.

            2. Agreed. See my response to Geo.

   2. Will do!
      I can tell you about Handmaid’s Tale now: excellent book.
      Theocracy, conditioning to conform, total government control. Oh, and no rights for women, by the way.
      It gives you the picture, bit by horrifying bit, with current events and flashbacks. Chilling.
      Here’s a passage that makes my hair stand on end:

      All those women having jobs: hard to imagine, now, but thousands of them had jobs, millions. It was considered the normal thing. Now it’s like remembering the paper money, when they still had that. My mother kept some of it, pasted into her scrapbook along with the early photos. It was obsolete by then, you couldn’t buy anything with it. Pieces of paper, thickish, greasy to the touch, green-colored, with pictures on each side, some old man in a wig and on the other side a pyramid with an eye above it. It said In God We Trust. My mother said people used to have signs beside their cash registers, for a joke: In God We Trust, All Others Pay Cash. That would be blasphemy now.
      You had to take those pieces of paper with you when you went shopping, though by the time I was nine or ten most people used plastic cards. Not for the groceries though, that came later. It seems so primitive, totemistic even, like cowry shells. I must have used that kind of money myself, a little, before everything went on the Compubank.
      I guess that’s how they were able to do it, in the way they did, all at once, without anyone knowing beforehand. If there had still been portable money, it would have been more difficult.
      It was after the catastrophe, when they shot the president and machine-gunned the Congress and the Army declared a state of emergency. They blamed it on the Islamic fanatics, at the time.
      Keep calm, they said on television. Everything is under control.
      I was stunned. Everyone was, I know that. It was hard to believe. The entire government, gone like that. How did they get in, how did it happen?
      That was when they suspended the Constitution. They said it would be temporary. There wasn’t even any rioting in the streets. People stayed home at night, watching television, looking for some direction. There wasn’t even an enemy you could put your finger on.
      Look out, said Moira to me, over the phone. Here it comes.
      Here what comes? I said.
      You wait, she said. They’ve been building up to this. It’s you and me up against the wall baby. She was quoting an expression of my mother’s, but she wasn’t intending to be funny.

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      1. You’re right.
         That gave me goosebumps.

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         1. Of course the next step was freezing the accounts of any one with an “F” in the gender box, then firing them from all jobs.

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            1. The scary thing is, I work with a Ukranian who would be perfectly happy to see that vision become a reality. He thinks that women should not work, but should be in the kitchen, making their obligatory husbands happy. He has trouble understanding how my husband “lets” me work the hours I do.
               He also wonders why I don’t like him.

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