Float Beside Me with a Swan’s Touch of Casual Satisfaction

For the sake of succinctness, what I said in comments yesterday:

Yeah, I saw both. The world is large and shitty enough that Palin can both be a victim of horrible misogynism and Liberal kneejerk reactions AND simultaneously be a loathsome pig.

I've transcended the either/or impulse. Yay me.

I've yet to find joy from my new enhanced-by-double insights. What I seem to see clearer are the formative rules that demand the either/or impulse as lead and leash, remember the lessons I've learned from that philosophy of power's key texts.

Yes I am a lazy motherfucker: there are plenty of folk who'll tumble for you - I link to them below! - to wrestle with the meanings of The Sarah Palin Decade, but I want to again thank KEXP  for making me revisit WFMU: I found that image on a dj's excellent playlist (each song has an mp3 pop-up, yo).

Serendipity is as double-edged as enforced either/ors (or forced metaphors).

• Her candidacy is over?
• Her candidacy is over?
• If Palin was president. 
• Obamababble wins this round?
• Deprogramming Obama's speech.
• There's more to life than sports.
• Words and deeds. 
• UPDATE! Death management.
• Hateful rhetoric.
• No thanks for the memories.
• Understanding the strategy of the Democratic Power Class.
• The rise of the new global elite.
• The Cthulhu Cult of Capital. 
• Portfolios of the poor.
• Renewing a working class propaganda.
• Slapping George Will.
• Fuck King Farm.
• Fairgrounds! 
• Jeebusfuckingchrist.
• We're a happy family.
• Phosphene.

ONE NIGHT STAND

Jack Spicer

Listen, you silk-hearted bastard,

I said in the bar last night,

You wear those dream clothes

Like a swan out of water.

Listen, you wool-feathered bastard,

My name, just for the record, is Leda.

I can remember pretending

That your red silk tie is a real heart

That your raw wool suit is real flesh

That you could float beside me with a swan’s touch

Of casual satisfaction.

But not the swan’s blood.

Waking tomorrow, I remember only

Somebody’s feathers and his wrinkled heart

Draped loosely in my bed.