Wednesday, July 27, 2011

You Have to Get Over the Shattered Autos in the Backwoods Lot to that Bridge in the Darkness Where the Sentinels Stand Guarding the Border with Their Half-Slung Rifles, Warned of the Likes of You

Sure, who, Fleabus?  Find me the honest broker who passes your sniff test re: Corporate whore and can run successfully against Corporate needing Corporate's help to confront Corporate, thus another Corporate whore. We're all whores. My whore's are older, fatter, lazier but just as craven in exact proportion to me.

O! this: You have to ask, what would it take for these news organizations and pundits to actually break with the convention that both sides are equally at fault? This is the clearest, starkest situation one can imagine short of civil war. If this won’t do it, nothing will. Krugman's obamapostasy will never be ready, though it'll be ready before he loses his naivete and understands why Corporate values his employment.

Meanwhile, new excellent if self-derivative Corporate whoring from Bjork:

Today's Gaddis:

 - You don't paint? You don't paint pictures yourself?
 - I... no.
 - Why not?
 - I just... don't paint.
 - Recktall Brown watched him wipe his perspiring forehead, and drink part of the brandy quickly. - All this work, all these books, you go to all this trouble just to patch up other people's work? How come you've never painted anything yourself?
 - Well, I have, I have.
 - What happened, you couldn't sell them?
 - Well, no, but...
 - Why not?
 - Well people.... the critics... I was young then, I was still young.
 - What are you now, about forty?
 - Forty? Me, forty?
 - Why not, you look forty. He took a cigar from his pocket, and continued his gaze at the man across from him. - So they didn't like your pictures. What happened, the critics laugh you out of town?
 - Well they....
 - And you got bitter because nobody gave your genius any credit.
 - No, I...
 - And you couldn't make any money on them, so you quit?
 - No, it...
 - And you decided the only thing you could do was patch up other people's pictures.
 - No, damn it, I....
 - Don't get mad, I'm just asking you.

      • All Fleabus photos by Planet, yo. 
      • Cats are great. I realize ours aren't truly ferals anymore. Napoleon is ours, Creamy's made reappearances (she shows up in harsh weather), Frankie's a moron on wants to be pet but is to wussy to let us, and even Momcat is now walking towards us when she's hungry. All disappear for days, weeks at a time but all come home. Napoleon is the leanest, healthiest cat who's ever owned me.
      • Also at the above link, in comments I put a song into your head since it was put in mine.
      • Flavorful mechanics.
      • Yes, I know I'm not worthy.
      • It rarely occurs to us to go to Silver Spring.
      • High Holy Day this Saturday.
      • I've read preciselyall of zero of this year's Mann Booker long list.
      • Josipovici, for those of you who do.
      • Writer's block.
      • Cocteau Twins meet Dead Can Dance.
      • THE GLANDS! Seriously, I love The Glands.


      Dick Allen

      Stumps. Railroad tracks. Early sicknesses,
      the blue one, especially.
      Your first love rounding a corner,
      that snowy minefield.
      Whether you step lightly or heavily,
      you have to get over to that tree line a hundred yards in the distance
      before evening falls,
      letting no one see you wend your way,
      that wonderful, old-fashioned word, wend,
      meaning “to proceed, to journey,
      to travel from one place to another,”
      as from bed to breakfast, breakfast to imbecile work.
      You have to get over your resentments,
      the sun in the morning and the moon at night,
      all those shadows of yourself you left behind
      on odd little tables.
      Tote that barge! Lift that bale! You have to
      cross that river, jump that hedge, surmount that slogan,
      crawl over this ego or that eros,
      then hoist yourself up onto that yonder mountain.
      Another old-fashioned word, yonder, meaning
      “that indicated place, somewhere generally seen
      or just beyond sight.” If you would recover,
      you have to get over the shattered autos in the backwoods lot
      to that bridge in the darkness
      where the sentinels stand
      guarding the border with their half-slung rifles,
      warned of the likes of you. 


      1. With that Serious™ gaze, why couldn't Fleabus be the one? Not as if feline speech is any less grating & incoherent than corporate gobbledygook.

      2. If nominated she will not accept; if elected she will not serve.

        What remains of my spirituality requires me believe this.

      3. I like the opener!

        and the segment of Wyatt/RB too

        but the sil spg news (Ervin quotes esp) raises ire

        "feel safe"? holiest of phoques!

      4. Hasn't talked to me since.

        Sounds like a net positive, BDR.

      5. We don't go because we're Bethesdacentric - Earthgirl grew up in Glen Echo, we've lived a mile from downtown Bethesda for twenty years. It just doesn't occur to us. It's strange: it's only three miles away.

        Will be going to Silver Spring more often for the Ethiopian restaurants once Planet (who won't eat it) is away at college. I've friends at work who rave about two of them, especially this one.

        Lightening Will, he was always nice to Planet but now doesn't even wave to her when she's walking her piano teacher's dog. What a fucktard.

      6. Also Negril is in Silver Spring. Actually lots of less pretentious than Bethesda places are. And I went to BCC.

        But that's not why I bothered to open the damn comments thingy. The answer to your question (as always since Barbara Jordan died) is Bill Moyers.

      7. And Kinky Friedman (of Kinky Friedman and the Texas Jewboys) just tweeted "The cowboy hears distant screaming on shifting winds, telling him the meaning of life is somewhere at the other end of a long, lonely canyon"

      8. I can't resist offering you a YouTube link:

      9. I've never eaten at a Negril's though I've heard good things - Will try it.

        As for my question, anyone who would *want* to be president is eliminated from my consideration by that desire.

        What I know of Kinky Friedman is that Don Imus supported Friedman's campaigns for office in Texas. That's disqualifying enough for me.

      10. I'm shocked that I know somebody who knows who Imus supported. Or anything about Imus for that matter.

        Kinky has had a blues band and has written tunes for about 30 years. He's also a serial novelist. I hope you checked out the YouTube. I'm quite fond of that song of his.

      11. I killed the double comment for you.

        I saw - I've no idea where, and it had to be at least five years ago - a clip of Friedman proudly talking about his friendship with Imus and Imus' support. My assumption was that they would share politics, though that's of course unfair, as would my assumption that being a friend of an asshole like Imus makes you an asshole too. Likely, probably, but not necessarily true.

      12. Thanks .. the double comment was the result of Googlefutz :(