Holyfuck, I've the first comprehensively vile mood I've had in months, so fuck it, I'll be damned if I'm not going to enjoy it.
- Bleggalgazing: There is another factor at play in the recent dearth of posting: the inherent difficulty of saying anything meaningful about a political world that has become almost totally hallucinatory. This is currently being exemplified by the debt-ceiling “crisis.” Every single element of the public presentation of this “crisis” is transparently, even brazenly false. It is obvious – even to many of our ever-somnolent Establishment commentators – that the situation is an entirely manufactured crisis designed solely to impose shock-doctrine “austerity” on the American system, thus completing its long, painful mutation into a neo-feudal oligarchy backed by a militarist police state.
- There is no lesser evilism.
- On what do we depend?
- World Shittiest Human tells crackers to sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up.
- Motherfucking christers. Here's the motherfucker's email address: WesScroggins
@MissouriState.edu. Don't actually write him, just have a pleasant thirty seconds daydreaming about it.
- Yes, I realize Corporate plays me off this motherfucking christer to keep us from acknowledging what we agree upon and combining against Corporate, but what the fuck am I going to say to this fucker and his imaginary friend Fascist Jesus?
- Krugman's obamapostasy will never be ready.
- Blog Days of Summer or not, our stringtown in Blegsylvania be dead.
- Solar anus.
- Annihilating angel.
- Mouth end of the animal.
It was snowing as he wrote.
In the gray room he felt relaxed and singular,
But no one, of course, ever trusts these moods.
There had to be understanding to it.
Why, though? That always happens anyway,
And who gets the credit for it? Not what is understood,
Presumably, and it diminishes us
In our getting to know it.
As trees come to know a storm
Until it passes and light falls anew
Unevenly, on all the muttering kinship:
Things with things, persons with objects,
Ideas with people or ideas.
It hurts, this wanting to give a dimension
To life when life is precisely that dimension.
We are creatures, therefore we walk and talk
And people come up to us, or listen
And then move away.
Music fills the spaces
Where figures are pulled to the edges,
And it can only say something.
Sinews are loosened then,
The mind begins to think good thoughts.
Ah, this sun must be good:
Doing a number, completing its trilogy.
Life must be back there. You hid it
So no one could find it
And now you can't remember where.
But if one were to invent being a child again
It might just come close enough to being a living relic
To save this thing, save it from embarrassment
By ringing down the curtain,
And for a few seconds no one would notice.
The ending would seem perfect.
No feelings to dismay,
No tragic sleep to wake from in a fit
Of passionate guilt, only the warm sunlight
That slides easily down shoulders
To the soft, melting heart.
There is another factor at play in the recent dearth of posting: the inherent difficulty of saying anything meaningful about a political world that has become almost totally hallucinatory.ReplyDelete
This. In spades. I don't know how the true agitators keep up the energy, often for decades.
Don't actually write him, just have a pleasant thirty seconds daydreaming about it.ReplyDelete
now where's the fun in that?
purging the vileness is what it's all about!
though I tend to agree with the Floyd quote's sentiments even if I dislike the "disastercap" phrase's originator and her own hypocrisies....
that the situation is an entirely manufactured crisis designed solely to impose shock-doctrine “austerity” on the American system.ReplyDelete
I've been saying this (on other people's blogs, because I get all blogged up with links and rage and words and stuff when I try to complete my own post on it).
It's just the way we were lied into Iraq.
Not that I ever posted political crap much 'cause one of you yahoos would have invariably posted what I would have said, and better, but I'm finding that throwing up crap photos is much more enjoyable (read: easier), and a prettier illusion than DEATH CRISIS 2000 (or 2012 or whatever the due date is).ReplyDelete
Try a G12, R.G.ReplyDelete
P.S. I like your pics.
That didn't take long.ReplyDelete
Yeah, it must have been in the can when they sat down with Bradley.ReplyDelete
Still, better now than if they'd kept Bradley and got a shitty start in WCQ. Wonder what they do if they get off to a shitty start in WCQ with Klinsmann.
I wonder how much $$$ it would take to have convinced Huddink to take the job. He's done with Turkey after Euro 2012.
His children are HOME-SCHOOLED. Never never never hire anybody who was hone-schooled.ReplyDelete
...the inherent difficulty of saying anything meaningful about a political world that has become almost totally hallucinatory...ReplyDelete
Praise the fucking Lord!!!! Why was that so fucking difficult? Now, spend one full week remembering that and I won't give you a redkit number 4 for your birthday, I'll give you a blackkit number...well, I'm not sure about that part, but it won't be a 4. For which you've been fucking cruising for months.
But let not my bottled and well-aged indignation detract from the unbridled joy of the quoted passage, the single most intelligent fucking thing you have said in the last three fucking years. By far. If you're gonna be a fucking nihilist, be a fucking nihilist. Thanks, hugs, love, and kisses.
In my defense, when I say the same thing he (excellently, as opposed to...) does every fucking day, at least I try to make it hallucinatory.ReplyDelete
Y'know, I totally missed that you were linking. I really thought you wrote that passage. I liked it better that way.ReplyDelete
Oh well. The offer stands.
No worries! It *is* what I say on a daily basis, and I was bound to randomly hit on *that* paraphrase eventually.ReplyDelete
HEY! Do female unicorns have holes in their foreheads?
Gonna ask over there too.
Happy, sad, indifferent about Klins?ReplyDelete
I always appreciate another witness to my sulking. :)ReplyDelete