Page five to twenty-seven? Twenty-three freaking pages? Geez, that's what, 1/14th of an entire old-school SF novel? That was 23 pages of reading time that bastard stole from me, that I am NEVER going to get back, all in the service of a hoary SF discourse that needed two pages, max.

I confess I don't remember the "memetic parasitation" scene; it was a long time ago, and I've read a lot of more interesting things since then.