MALZBERG: Don't you think it's fair also to ask him, I know your stance on this. How come we don't have a health record, we don't have a college record, we don't have a birth cer - why Mr. Obama did you spend millions of dollars in courts all over this country to defend against having to present a birth certificate. It's one thing to say, I've -- you've seen it, goodbye. But why go to court and send lawyers to defend against having to show it? Don't you think we deserve to know more about this man?
HUCKABEE: I would love to know more. What I know is troubling enough. And one thing that I do know is his having grown up in Kenya, his view of the Brits, for example, very different than the average American. When he gave the bust back to the Brits --Huckabee knows full fucking well Obama didn't grow up in Kenya, so there's a deliberate lie meant to play to his cracker base, but then here's a truth!
MALZBERG: He despises the west, he despises the Brits, and I think he could take it all out on Israel and that's why he despises Israel. He's not too thrilled with our history either. But let me just try to get an answer from you. Would you say to him, or at least ask him in a debate, why did you go to court and spend millions of dollars on lawyers to prevent from having to show your birth certificate. If you have one and it's there, why not show it?
HUCKABEE: The only reason I'm not as confident that there's something about the birth certificate, Steve, is because I know the Clintons [inaudible] and believe me, they have lots of investigators out on him, and I'm convinced if there was anything that they could have found on that, they would have found it, and I promise they would have used it.Truth, truth, absolute and fundamental truth.
It's true Blegsylvania is in recession if not in depression. Look at my blegrells, see how bleggers haven't posted in days, weeks, months. The same is true on blegrells of bleggers I read on a daily basis. It's winter at the old folks home.
I've no doubt Twitter and Facebook contribute heavily to Blegsylvania's depopulation - we are trained to have shorter and shorter attention spans (we are trained to spend our wages on our over-priced training devices, and AWOO!) - and Twitter and Facebook will be obsolete soon themselves (remember when blogging felt fresh and, tee-hee, empowering?), but I neither Twitter or Facebook, and I can only speak for me and this shitty blog when I say it's not
it's too much fuck tossed in a pissy dressing of my insignificance, complicity, and my unconquerable vanity that I'll be proved right about the depth and width of the clusterfuck, and that's not as much fun to write about as once it was, and when it was more fun I still enjoyed posting songs and poems and writing about DC United and bleggalgazing more anyway.
- Coup D'Etat, now with extra remorse.
- Spending or investing?
- Annals of white collar crime.
- Winning hearts and minds.
- The options.
- History of the Newt.
- Buttboy slams asshole!
- UPDATE! YFWP.
- UPDATE! YFWP.
- Things you might have missed.
- That's from a huge pile of art Earthgirl picked up yesterday from the garage of her aunt who died last month or two. Wonder why she rushed home to give me that one.
- Intro: Late American Novel.
- On the above.
- On Amy Clampett.
- Writing tools.
- Raskolnikov's inbox.
- This week's new releases w/sound.
- Obscure Sound's best of February w/sound.
- UPDATE! Master of the Universe!
- UPDATE! I am the fly.
- Years (5-8).
- I claimed this one out of the pile for obvious current and future use:
should be green to represent an ocean. It should have two stars in the first canton, for us and navigation. They should be of gold thread, placed diagonally, and not solid, but comprised of lines. Our flag should be silky jet. It should have a wound, a red river the sun must ford when flown at half-mast. It should have the first letter of every alphabet ever. When folded into a triangle an embroidered eighth note should rest on top or an odd-pinnate, with an argentine stem, a fiery leaf, a small branch signifying the impossible song. Or maybe honey and blue with a centered white pinion. Our flag should be a veil that makes the night weep when it comes to dance, a birthday present we open upon death, the abyss we sleep under. Our flag should hold failure like light glinting in a headdress of water. It should hold the moon as the severed head of a white animal and we should carry it to hospitals and funerals, to police stations and law offices. It should live, divided, deepening its yellows and reds, flaunting itself in a dead gray afternoon sky. Our flag should be seen at weddings well after we've departed. It should stir in the heat above the tables and music. It should watch our friends join and separate and laugh as they go out under the clouded night for cold air and cigarettes. Our flag should sing when we cannot, praise when we cannot, rejoice when we cannot. Let it be a reminder. Let it be the aperture, the net, the rope of dark stars. Let it be mathematics. Let it be the eloquence of the process shining on the page, a beacon on the edge of a continent. Let its warnings be dismissed. Let it be insignificant and let its insignificance shine.