- Lots of Robyn Hitchcock, who was 59 yesterday.
- What is there to say about Limbaugh's inevitable apology? No one will be happy, not his detractors, especially not his devotees, and all will be forgotten within weeks if not days, replaced with the next fury over the next distraction on the path to Obama's reelection.
- Please note that in this YFWP article on Iran supplying weaponry and logistical help to Syrian government for crackdown on Syrian citizen uprising there is not a single mention of the US supplying weaponry and logistical guidance to Bahrain during its crackdown on citizen uprising. Hey look! Rush Limbaugh!
- Which is not my denying the odiousness of the motherfucking cracker assaults on women's rights nor the just and deserved outrage against them. What pisses me off is being forced into an either/or dead-end binary that only exists as a corralling accusation: either sanction Obama's assaults on civil liberties or sacrifice women's reproductive rights. Reject the false equation.
- Along those lines.
- Koch v Cato.
- Counting your blessings.
- Yes, old news, but here, some words for your twitter feed to amuse DHS fuckers.
- Lindsay Graham, R-Israel.
- Whirled peas.
- Animal crackers.
- What is each cities most sacred uniform number? Here? Sonny's 9.
- The Present.
- Hitchcock covers Roxy Music.
- Balloon Man has inside baseball.
- Yes, I know he's performed with The Dotherfucking Mecembrists - I once went on a date with Vanice Jetter. We clowns all seek and need forgiveness.
- This is now BLCKDGRD - Official Theme Song 7:
EVERYONE IN THE ROOM IS A REPRESENTATIVE OF THE WORLD AT LARGE
Things mean, and I can’t tell them not to.
Things they moralize, to meet
my expectation, because I want advice
on how to live. The seaweed says:
This is a river; I am river-weed.
Which of these/my clumps do you want me to be (say)?
The closest one. That more animated brown one
rolls and unrolls its lengths of hair
and makes me feel unwell.
You quieter green clump, why don’t you speak.
A most beautiful bright blue bird
knifed down the stream
and veered left at the oak,
where the stream bends. A
male bird. He says: I am the
a blue muscle that centers past
a blue muscle roping future in
as past behind me cedes
blue muscle flying future into past
blue muscle flashes future
instantaneous wingbeat pasts.
Under the bird, forest and water. Above
the bird, forest and cloud.
The twig trails in the water.
Twig-end disappears, twig resurrects
in reflection and continues down,
leads back to the tree, the undertree
that lives on the top of the water.
If I penetrate (look beneath) the water, the twig end
dangles and the forest
The bird was a flying fist
It smashed up nothing
I pursued it round the corner,
a blue punch
my violence goes on out along the stream.