Bob Black is about the most brilliantly quotable writer I've read,
exceeding even Tom Stoppard on the cleverometer for short sprints
(e.g. one word). His business card explains:
"Misanthropologist Diabologian Translexual Groucho-Marxist
Dada Processor ..."
He is also a talented philosopher. His book "The Abolition of Work"
is the only clear explanation I've read of all anarchists secret dream
(which they are too Puritan to admit) that society must be built for Play.
"Pain is just God's way of hurting you."
The book includes essays on several other topics, games, and a
glossary of Fighting Words so good they got Steward Brand in trouble
when he printed them in Whole Earth. The book also documents his
falling out with the editors of the SF-based mag Processed World,
which eventually required him to leave THAT town. The topic seemed so
boring I never read the piece. Several others are masterpieces.
Bob is shockingly principled, the way most bright children are before
they drop it all in hopes of getting laid. You might say he's
emotionally immature, or at least highly individualized that way. He
reminds some hackers of Richard Stallman, the Bearer of Free Software.
Sadly, Bob has a drinking problem. He knows it.
Re gossip, I'm one of very few who've had enough friendly contact with
Bob Black to understand some of what happened with the SPA people.
Though he didn't phrase it this way, I think Bob freaked out during a
beer party upon realizing that the SPA people he drank with every week
were even more determined to ignore his problem than he was. He
poured beer over Fishmonger and several others, his girlfriend left
him, and that idiot feud began. $tang never turned on him; he just
knows an alcoholic paranoid when he loves one. I'm glad the feud is
finally in Bob's past and I look forward to his work.
