BIG NEWS! In the private democracy I live in I have been outvoted, per usual, 2 to 1, and Lucy and Babalu will be Fred and Ethel, the sillyass reason is unimportant (I didn't ask so don't know what it is, I eat the (wine I drink the bread) vote results and will honor the vote and not claim it rigged, nor crash a fucking unwatchable NBA game and then fall asleep as I'm booed). Too, turns out Ethel nee Lucy is NOT a Scottish Fold, a relief, actually, since I've read that Scottish Folds come with many unpleasant and debilitating for the cat health issues
Good news for me if not for you: I'm back on this drug, it helps me cope more than even tending this shitty blog BIG NEWS! Two posts before this one post (the link above), when Fred and Ethel were still Lucy and Babalu, I mentioned Lambert Strether, a character in Henry James "The Ambassadors," and remembered digibud Lambert and later wondered whether he (both the alias and the person using the alias) still online, and yes, look here and then bookmark it and read daily!
NEW OLD NEWS! I have done zero research into Graham Platner's history and character deliberately, I said to a question asked me yesterday by a chaired History professor renowned as a Liberal Sage with a specialty in New Deal history, though I noted that every professional (and amateur) Liberal and Corporate Democrat I would expect to campaign against a threat from the Left has united to fight Platner harder than they've ever fought Tronald Dump, so Platner can't be all *that* bad. He has a fucking Nazi tattoo, said chaired History professor, who lives one zip code east of mine and has the same congressman. You work on Jaime Raskin's campaigns, I said, he funds the Israeli genocide in Gaza and the Israeli ethnic cleansing of the West Bank and now southern Lebanon, you still voting for him? A Nazi tattoo is more disqualifying than funding genocide? Chaired History professor informed me, That's different and fuck you
BIG NEWS! Fellowjeff's Noise & Syrup, my very favorite show of hundreds in the thirty years I've been listening for hours daily to WFMU is on this Summer's schedule, the song above and below from the first show this morning!
For the record, if Platner is elected I fully expect him to fund the neverending Israeli genocide in Gaza and the Israeli ethnic cleansing in the West Bank and now southern Lebanon and to vote in general like all motherfucking Corporate Democrats, it's just illustrative that Corporate Democrats' Job One is to destroy even the most minor threat from the Left, I said to the other professor engaged in the conversation at the Circ Desk after Chaired History professor stormed out. Yup, second professor said
"The difference between Russia/Qatar and the USA is Russia/Qatar used the World Cup to hide their human rights abuses, and the USA are using it to flaunt them"
Go to the 32:45 mark (autocorrect capitalized that Mark, gospel truth) to watch this shitty blog's Official Bleggalgazing Anthem, May 31st this shitty blog's Bleggalgazing Day for reasons I forget and reasons I remember but don't type this time, two days late this year because I no longer adhere to this shitty blog's rites as religiously as once, and this one now posted primarily for its Anthem and three related Theme Songs
The gleggalbaze: this project has evolved into aiding me process and cope and protest and document the world our sociopath shitlord owners brazenly and hastily, like time is running out, are openly attempting to impose on us, so it's therapeutic, yes, but more importantly I still enjoy making these poems. Also too:
And while bot-hits now outnumber people hits by a factor of tens of thousands a day (so there's no point my quitting the blog for fear of AI bots ripping me off or shitlords' ubiquitous surveillance of my treason), THANK YOU YOU WHO VISIT, there is still a community of sorts here in Dead, Blegsylvania, and very thank you to yinz that reach out with emails, comments, words, art, Kindness
Barring the unexpected, two new folk moving into our house end of August (they are only five weeks old now), both children of ferals in York, Pennsylvania, rescued by a friend of L's, a crazier cat-person than even us (though we have more garden statuary), I'll soon be able to walk into my house and yell, Lucy, I'm home
Our next door neighbor is luckily (if you're me) or unluckily (if you're L) named Ricky, so Bob, short for Babalu (L did not get my allusion when I said Bob Alou the missing fourth Alou brother, the fuck am I old)
I love all cats but love black cats best. Strangest days of my life, I'm reading, and enjoying, and now jinxing Henry James' The Ambassadors, attempt number 54,798 at reading James, at the insistence of two English professors and longtime friends I promised years ago at a Thursday Night Pints I'd keep trying James' late great trilogy (Wings of the Dove and The Golden Bowl the other two) until I get it or keep trying until end times if necessary. I can't name Bob Lambert since Lambert, aka Corrente, a lost blogbud, already taken, I can see why. End times? Have a grid below the Miles Davis, today is his centenary
"The psychopaths are conditioning us, through sheer repetition, to inhabit their moral universe of the medieval dark ages, in which prisoners are tortured and raped as a matter of operational routine, and the response of the civilized world is a furrowed brow and a State Department briefing about the importance of continued partnership"
In all my years as a pedestrian
serving juice to guests, it never occurred to me
thoughtfully to imagine how a radish feels.
She merely arrived. Half-turning
in the demented twilight, one feels a
sour empathy with all that went before.
That, needless to say, was how we elaborated
ourselves staggering across tracts:
Somewhere in America there is a naked person.
Somewhere in America adoring legions blush
in the sunset, crimson madder, and madder still.
Somewhere in America someone is trying to figure out
how to pay for this, bouncing a ball
off a wooden strut. Somewhere
in America the lonely enchanted eye each other
on a bus. It goes down Woodrow Wilson Avenue.
Somewhere in America it says you must die, you know too much.
Whether deliberately orchestrated or by deliberate negligence blooger, the program and product, is sinking into suck at the same accelerating pace as every effing thing else. Besides the preview-post not updating after I edit the post before publishing (happening now) the most notable farts are the increasing number of sites on the blogrolls whose feeds won't update (though blooger insists the feed is live and active) - I know the Blog Days of Summer have started (commences every year after Spring college and university commencements) and the number of people posting and reading will slow dramatically, but there are people on the blogrolls posting (Naked Capitalism, for instance) whose new posts are not reflected in real time on the blogrolls' timelines. I cleared caches on my work and personal machines and tested other PCs in the Library, it's bloogle, not me. I mention this not as a hint of my future as a blegacider but as a simple but excellent example of abundant fine fucking metaphors' abounding. The enshittification epidemic be real. Be sure to spiral
New, that, go buy this at bandcamp. I'm gonna sue myself for ten million dollars then give myself almost two million dollars to drop the suit, I said yesterday to the unsmiling visage of my friend and former polisci professor (and Christopher Lasch apostle) who has playfully teased me for three decades for being a crazy canary, crazy weathervane, crazy Cassandra, and lunatic doomsaying fool. You win, he said, the times are as crazy as you. I did *not* recommend that split OOIOO/Lightning Bolt album to him (who shares Elric's given first name, one of three I've known, and adores Mahler), but you? YES! go buy that album at bandcamp for the new OOIOO but especially buy it for the new Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt comes highly recommended, I can't play them in the car when L is with me! a Swans-level vouch from her!
