Wednesday, November 27, 2013

The Laws the Linguists Thought Up Were Particularly Lissome, Full of Magical Loopholes that Spit Out Medals

Found my Bevis Frond stash looking for something else. Hey, Wednesday officially begins the five slowest days of the year in Blegsylvania, bar none, something that didn't occur to me until after I'd spent too much time on this post. One of the days, because I promise myself a Stereolab cascade every time I note that I don't play enough Stereolab here (like I did last week) considering how much I like and listen to Stereolab, so tomorrow or Friday, cascade. Requests solicited, I know at least one of you, if you're tuned in over the holiday, dig Stereolab. Requests for other cascades solicited, this being the slowest five days of the year in Blegsylvania.

  • My recently deceased Aunt Julia (a run of 97 years, I'd buy that right now), a kind if stern women and the most devout conservative Catholic I've personally known would hate this pope, which means he must be preaching (as in sales-pitching for his Corporation, I know, don't get me wrong) something that pisses off devout conservative Catholics, which I admit I'm still small enough to enjoy.
  • Pope Francis or Karl Marx? Posted not only because of the above but because (a) unkind comment about the fellow blogger and blog linked to related to blogging and my edict to myself not to link to her and (b) fucking facebook and (c) what does this say about my priorities between my bleggal principles and my jones for an echo to a point? 
  • My jones for an echo to a point: regardless of whether Jorge Bergoglio is sincere and genuinely desires to move the Catholic Church in the direction I would applaud or whether Jorge Bergoglio is a skilled and cynical barker preaching populist biscuits to the world's billions of disenfranchised that comprise the future survival of Catholic Corporation (and of course he is an infinite combination of both, like we all are), wouldn't it be nice if Jorge Bergoglio is enough of an independent rube that Catholic power-brokers are scared the puppet they cast as pope might break kayfabe?
  • Obama's new constraint. Hey! yesterday was Kill List Tuesday!
  • Obama threw a party! and held an off-the-record meeting with MSNBC hosts and liberal pundits on Thursday, POLITICO has learned. Present at the meeting: MSNBC's Ed Schultz and Lawrence O'Donnell, Washington Post economics blogger Ezra Klein, Mother Jones Washington bureau chief David Corn, Talking Points Memo editor and publisher Josh Marshall, ThinkProgress editor-in-chief Judd Legum, Atlantic senior editor Garance Franke-Ruta, Salon political writer Brian Beutler and Fox News contributor Juan Williams.
  • Judd Legum? A peanut in the Beverly Hillbillies?
  • A fake slum for luxury tourists?


Matthea Harvey

The generalissimo's glands directed him
to and fro. Geronimo! said the über-goon
we called God, and we were off to the races.
Never mind that we could only grow
grey things, that inspecting the horses' gums
in the gymnasium predicted a jagged
road ahead. We were tired of hard news—
it helped to turn down our hearing aids.
We could already all do impeccable imitations
of the idiot, his insistent incisors working on
a steak as he said there's an intimacy to invasion.
That much was true. When we got jaded
about joyrides, we could always play games
in the kitchen garden with the prisoners.
Jump the Gun, Fine Kettle of Fish and Kick
the Kidney were our favorites. The laws
the linguists thought up were particularly
lissome, full of magical loopholes that
spit out medals. When we ran out of room
on our uniforms, we pinned them to
our mourning bands, to our mops.
We had made the big time, but night nipped
at our heels. The navigator's needle swung
strangely, oscillating between the oilwells
and ask again later. We tried to pull ourselves
together by practicing quarterback sneaks
along the pylons, but the race to the ravine
was starting to feel as real as the R.I.P.'s
and roses carved into rock. Suddenly the sight
of a schoolbag could send us scrambling.


  1. I didn't write this (saw it on a friend's Facebook), but I think it answers Vatican, Inc. perfectly.

    Wanna know if his money's where his mouth is, loot the Vatican. Some ppl would call that "karma." I call it damn well about time. He's still wearing his fairy princess clothes. You don't get to be Pope -- just as u don''t get to be POTUS -- by being a "nice guy." Those parasites have been bleeding humanity anemic, if not outright dead, for over 2,000 years. They've cornered the market. They know how to push buttons & trigger emotions when brute force, rape & pillaging would be inconvenient. This mother fucker is a mother fucker. And he's probably the MOST DANGEROUS mother fucker that pit of depravity has spewed out since the Dark Ages. In fact, just a few years ago, that bastard was calling people like me in league with the prince of lies. In other words: I'm satanic for being Queer. LOOT THE MOTHER FUCKING VATICAN!

  2. A Bevis Frond cascade? Then a Stereolab cascade? Talk about your Holiday kewl musiks!!

    A Mark Kozelec (sp?) cascade might be fun. I'd probably do a Luna or Yo La Tengo multipost—but then I'd be putting up 20 songs each minimum and nobody would listen. I'm thinking about putting together an Aussie power pop post after the holidays: Hoodoo Gurus, Saints, Someloves, Radio Birdman, just about anything by Dom Mariani, Chevelles.

    Thanks for the pome, btw!

    Jim H.

  3. Thanks. When I was working with Hecht he argued that form is liberating, allows the mind to find connections within the restrictions of the form it never would in free verse. So naturally, I feel away from form and just started again to unlock myself. Feels like cheating, which is just fucking weird and just fucking me. But it's working.

    Will take cascade suggestions under advisement. Maybe a combination cascade.

    Condolences on your impending loss, all best to your and yours, have this Updike poem that's always helped me:


    John Updike

    For days the good old bitch had been dying, her back
    pinched down to the spine and arched to ease the pain,
    her kidneys dry, her muzzle white. At last
    I took a shovel into the woods and dug her grave

    in preparation for the certain. She came along,
    which I had not expected. Still, the children gone,
    such expeditions were rare, and the dog,
    spayed early, knew no nonhuman word for love.

    She made her stiff legs trot and let her bent tail wag.
    We found a spot we liked, where the pines met the
    The sun warmed her fur as she dozed and I dug;
    I carved her a safe place while she protected me.

    I measured her length with the shovel’s long handle;
    she perked in amusement, and sniffed the heaped-up
    Back down at the house, she seemed friskier,
    but gagged, eating. We called the vet a few days later.

    They were old friends. She held up a paw, and he
    injected a violet fluid. She swooned on the lawn;
    we watched her breathing quickly slow and cease.
    In a wheelbarrow up to the hole, her warm fur shone.

  4. Once you don the pointy hat, breaking kayfabe isn't possible. It's not an option.

  5. a)i'm a little surprised that juan williams still is considered to be a 'liberal pundit'

    b)i read one of the literary recipes - orwell's 'plum cake' - it has no plums in it - this fact is even more surprising to me than juan williams being a 'liberal', though not quite astonishing

    c) i go to mass every week with missus charley, a lifelong catholic - to the question 'how's the pope?' i respond 'compared to what?'

    d) i really liked the updike poem