Saturday, April 28, 2012

Whatever Urge Drove the Rogue to Sow Itself and Strive Beyond All Cultivation Might Offer a Vital Lesson to Any Apostate Instinct Aspiring to Survive

Yes I saw the news of Obama's new ad calling Romney a wuss then saw news the same day Hillary Clinton calls Bin Laden snuff just one of thousands of snuffs Obama's ordered and my first thought was there are no accidents round here, my second was of course Obama's running Hard Big Dick now to defuse the standard Republican cry that Democrats are soft on national security, demonstrating that while I'm an apostate in practice my knee-jerks still respond to decades of conditioned response to game situations. I've always known it was a game, and just because I root for neither team now it's still a game, but motherfucking Obama. I'll know when I'm fully apostate when I stop enjoying my apostasy so much, and Hey! Did you know Washington DC has a professional soccer team?

  • It's true, and they have a home game tonight versus their nemesis, Houston, which beats United usually and thoroughly on crosses and set pieces. With a three game road trip - including to Houston for Houston's first game in their brand new state-of-the-art stadium - all three points tonight would be as sweet as it would be surprising. Waiting to see if seats three, four, and six are filled tonight. That? Would be a sweet as it would be surprising.
  • Also too. If you play there let me know. Yes, shoot me.
  • Reminder! May will be a motherfucking-free month at BLCKDGRD. L offered me a pint bet I can't go the entire month without typing and publishing here the word motherfucker. I understand that motherfucking Obama will make it incredibly difficult for me, but I've accepted the bet. You can get in on the bet too, in real beer or digital beer. I was offered a second pint bet that I could go the entire month without typing and publishing here any word that contains the consecutive letters f-u-c-k, but I'm not fucking stupid, L. Though I'll buy you a pint anyway.


R.T. Smith

Surprised by a frill of white flower
where I'd never planted an eye,
I decided to fence it with sticks

and let the renegade live
in undoctored soil where the garden
gave way to volunteer poplars

and acidic white pine. Why not?
After all, away from the tribe,
in clay where beetles drill

and weeds emerge inspired,
it might grow eccentric, proliferate
and thrive.
When autumn air

said disinter, to fill the bin
for winter, I troweled under
and pulled the stem

until a rabble of rough spuds
red as Etruscan urns emerged
as if to prove

that whatever urge drove
the rogue to sow itself and strive
beyond all cultivation

might offer a vital lesson
to any apostate instinct
aspiring to survive.


  1. Yep.

    Fred Hiatt, Wanker Of The Decade runner-up, outdid himself on Friday.

    But it's the WaPo's Donald Graham (aka Richie Rich), that deserves the ultimate blame.

  2. I stand you a pint if you can go the whole month of May without mentioning (boasting/whinging, etc.) you're trying to go the whole month of May without typing or publishing the word 'motherfucker' or any of its bowdlerized versions, including but not limited to mofo, mothertrucker, mf'er, etc.

  3. Oh yes, that's a pint bet, both the bar on any emmeffing and whining about it or unmistakably alluding to it, you cherished mofo.

    The first is already a part of the bet w/L, the second already an independent bet w/D.

  4. A run of 4-3-0? What's next no Spanish teams in the Heineken final? There's your real apocalyptic signage.

    Not typing something's easy, okay, not really, but if you can go a whole month in meat world, that's worthy of a motherfucking case.