Thursday, May 10, 2012

The Radio Operator's Name Is Sparks

My obamavatar when I was an obamapostle was the eleven-dimensional gameplayer seasoned with generous splashes of tobascobama that pisses off motherfucking crackers, so I've no surprise this (along with countless other vectors of why-today cynicism) was my sillyass first reaction: Biden's gaffe had been planned a month ago for release the Sunday before Dick Lugar's primary defeat to some motherfucking cracker. ObamaCo timed Obama's most humane moment as POTUS for hours after a Tea-Party candidate defeated a six-term GOP senator, a Villager (and their media outlets) favorite as the last icon of the enlightened bipartisanship that never existed that they congratulate themselves as embodying. The media spends a week boohooing Lugar's crucifixion by wing-nuts, the right-wing freak-out (and there will be a freak-out) over Obama's humanity. No, I don't believe that either.

Irwin played that yesterday. To me, the fascinating aspect of Obama's announcement yesterday isn't so much why-now as watching me and everyone else feed the news through our individual wringers and make the cynical pasta we each love best even if some of us eat it with less satisfaction than before or, if fortunate, don't eat it at all any more.

from YOU

Ron Silliman

Hard dreams. The moment at which you recognize that your own death lies
in wait somewhere within your body. A lone ship defines the horizon. The
rain is not safe to drink.

In Grozny, in Bihac, the idea of history shudders with each new explosion.
The rose lies unattended, wild thorns at the edge of a mass grave. Between
classes, over strong coffee, young men argue the value of a pronoun.

When this you see, remember. Note in a bottle bobs in a cartoon sea. The
radio operator's name is Sparks.

Hand outlined in paint on a brick wall. Storm turns playground into a
swamp. Finally we spot the wood duck on the middle lake.

The dashboard of my care like the keyboard of a piano. Toy animals anywhere.

Sun swells in the morning sky.

Man with three pens clipped to the neck of his sweatshirt shuffles from one
table to the next, seeking distance from the cold January air out the coffee
house door, tall Styrofoam cup in one hand, Of Grammatology in the other.
Outside, a dog is tied to any empty bench, bike chained to the No Parking


  1. What the pretzeldent has to do with the Europa League final, I've no idea. Time to get your priorities straight, young man.

  2. Only two more days to get ready for Caps - Rangers game 7...speaking of priorities.

  3. I agree. And, before reading this, agreed in a post. But my take was even more cynical in terms of the timing. It was a direct hit to the opening Romney left for himself in not defending his foreign policy guy. The focus was on the NC defeat of Amendment 1. Everybody was looking. Also, too, they knew the YFWP story about bully boy gay-basher was due to appear. What I heard is that YFWP delayed the Romney HS "prank" story a day so it didn't look like they were putting the two stories up across from each other above the fold and, by appearances, taking sides.