Thursday Night Pints was last night at my request: tomorrow we leave for England, I need tonight free in case because. Serendipitous: K (whom you've met) and special guest 2nd K, Moskovy-era Russian historian and good guy and soon to be obamapostate joined us, which they wouldn't have tonight.
Debate ensued. I said (I say this all the time here, forgive me), Obama's a motherfucking pig who believes and is invested in Corporate's crescendo to clusterfuck's clustergasm or he's a motherfucking cog, a bigger motherfucking cog than motherfucking you and me (and is fully interested in maintaining that hierarchy, you don't doubt that, do you?), but still a motherfucking cog or he's the moral agent you would have him be and doing the best possible honorable job he can within the parameters he can control: which is the worse scenario?
Well, it's not one or the other, 2nd K said, and I said sure, death to the either/or, that's granted, but you'd never vote for the first and why would you vote for the second? .06% less shitty debate ensued. K asked me how's blogging. I got a motherfucking email last week saying it's a shame I curse so motherfucking much, but other than that it's the motherfucking same every motherfucking day.
- US wealth distribution.
- Drop dead? NATO treaties would be a pain in the ass in the upcoming resource wars. I kid.
- Chicken hypnotism.
- The kingdom and the glory. I'll read the intro when it comes in. Sounds interesting.
- Worst city in America?
- Gaithersburg hires goats.
- Little Danny Snyder.
- Do you think cursing keeps people from linking to you, K asked.
- Your former glories and all your stories.
- Handke, for those of you who do. Which would you recommend I try first? Any particular translation (if there are more than one English)?
- Last generation of bookstores.
- When you cut.
- My three favorite hours of the week.
- Sure, I said.
- Molly's Lips.
- Why yes, I've posted the poem below before. Bet I do again.
- I love this song. I had in my head a week or so ago and then heard it yesterday morning, so be in your head too.
We gave our dogs a button to sniff, or a tissue, and they bounded off confident in their training, in the power of their senses to re-create the body, but after eighteen hours in rubble where even steel was pulverized they curled on themselves and stared up at us and in their soft huge eyes we saw mirrored the longing for death: then we had to beg a stranger to be a victim and crouch behind a girder, and let the dogs discover him and tug him proudly, with suppressed yaps, back to Command and the rows of empty triage tables. But who will hide from us? Who will keep digging for us here in the cloud of ashes?