The book describes the difficulty Kathy had in the years afterward coping with the stress of the jailing and related events. The couple’s relationship deteriorated in subsequent years, and they were divorced in 2012. In July 2012, Abdulrahman was arrested for allegedly attacking Kathy on a public street. A neighbor of Zeitoun and Kathy recalled a conversation with the both of them in 2004 where the Zeitouns acknowledge that Kathy was only physically abused once, a slap in the face .In August 2012, he was charged with plotting to have Kathy Zeitoun, her son, and another man murdered.A inmate who was serving time with Zeitoun notified officials that he was asked to participate in this plot, he was tried and found not guilty of charges of attempted first-degree murder and solicitation of first-degree murder.The state’s main witness was found not credible and had a extensive multi-state criminal record.
Did not know this epilogue to Zeitoun until now.
Zeitoun (book) – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
“Bolan enlisted in the Army at age 18 and served two tours of duty in Vietnam as a Green Beret, even though newer novels don’t make any reference to this as it makes him seem too old.”
“As well as being in two nuclear explosions, Mack has been knifed numerous times and shot several times in various parts of his body, most recently in his left shoulder. He has been in numerous grenade explosions and several warehouse roofs have come down on his head.”
It’s funny to imagine a 70 year old secret agent who has been in caught in two nuclear explosions (which is one more than one nuclear explosion, which is generally thought to be a lot).
Wikipedia – Mack Bolan
“game of thrones” by GRR Martin, cover art for Random House Mexico
A hedgehog cocoon fitting the grandiose scope of the books in a way that the show couldn’t possibly capture.
I quit doing drugs. I used to take drugs and I quit. But I’ll tell you something honestly about drugs, and I don’t think this is said enough anymore- I mean, it’s the truth: I had a great time doing drugs. Hahahahaha! Sorry. Never murdered anybody, never robbed anybody, never raped anybody, never beat anybody, never lost a job, a car, a house, a wife, or kids, laughed my ass off, and went about my day. Sorry.
I have never heard one reason that rang true why marijuana is against the law. Never heard one reason that rang true why marijuana is against the law. Marijuana grows all over the world, serves a thousand different functions, ALL of them positive. To make marijuana against the law is like saying God made a mistake. You know what I mean? It’s like God on the seventh day looked down on his creation, and he said, ‘There it is, my creation. Perfect and holy in all ways. Now I can rest… Oh my Me! I left fucking pot everywhere. I should never have smoked that joint on the third day, shit. Boy, if I leave pot everywhere, it’s gonna give people the impression they’re supposed to use it. Shit! Now I have to create Republicans.’
I am not promoting the use of drugs, I’m just saying if you’re gonna have a war against drugs, have ‘em against all drugs including alcohol, the number one offender, or shut the fuck up. And oh, by the way, my simple pleasurable advice would be: shut the fuck up. Ha ha ha ha ha. Just shut up. Your ways are tired, your point of view is meaningless, and you live hollow fucking lives.
Bill Hicks, “Recorded Live at Funny Bone, Pittsburgh, PA,” Love All The People, 1991.
I don’t smoke pot, and I’m glad because then I can champion it without special pleading. The reason I don’t smoke it is because it facilitates ideas and heightens sensations—and I’ve got enough shit flying through my head without smoking pot.
At this time, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the State will present its closing argument in the case against marijuana: It leads to the use of heroin and other dangerous, addictive drugs.
If this syllogism holds true, the bust-out junkie will say to his cellmate: ‘I am a heroin addict. I started smoking marijuana and then naturally I graduated to heroin. By the way, my cellmate, what happened to you? How did you come to murder three guys in a crap game? You’ve got blood on your hands. How did you first get obsessed with this terrible disease of gambling? Where did it all start?’
‘Oh, I started gambling with Bingo in the Catholic Church.’
Lenny Bruce, How To Talk Dirty and Influence People, 1965.
I just finished this book tonight. The first contemporary fiction I’ve read since all of A Song of Ice and Fire, but they actually have a similar sprawling take on a unique and damaging world. Where ASOIAF flits around war-torn Westeros, Skippy Dies covers the many lives of a classy, run-down Irish boarding school in what may be its own ultimate-conflict year. I’ve offered two quotes that capture an idea as a point-counterpoint, and while they don’t really demonstrate the breadth of Murray’s talent or his vocabulary, the give you an idea of the heavy teenage love that gets kicked around. I’m glad I’m not too old to hate it yet.
After she let him out the back gate, she stood there for a moment, under the splashing ivy. She was thinking about that French class. It was months ago, but now she thought about it, she found she remembered nearly everything – the cream sweater Mr Scott wore, his hair just beginning to need to be cut, the taste of chewing gum in her mouth, fluffy clouds chasing through the trees, the hairs on Dora Lafferty’s neck in front of her, the classroom smell of lipstick and old runners. She remembered telling herself to remember what Paul Éluard said, because it seemed important. But things like the world-inside-this-one are too big to hold in your head by yourself. You need someone to remind you, or else, you need someone you can tell, and you have to keep telling each other, over and over, throughout your whole life. And as you tell them, the things are slowly binding you together, like tiny invisible strings, or like a frisbee that’s thrown back and forth, or like words written on the floor in syrup. TELL LORI. TELL RUPRECHT.
Maybe instead of strings it’s stories things are made of, an infinite number of tiny vibrating stories; once upon a time they all were part of one big giant superstory, except it got broken up into a jillion different pieces, that’s why no story on its own makes any sense, and so what you have to do in a life is try and weave it back together, my story into your story, our stories into all the other people’s we know, until you’ve got something that to God or whoever might look like a letter or even a whole word…
Skippy Dies by Paul Murray