Monday, November 4, 2013

This Time I'm Not Going to Say a Thing about Deity

Saw all three and petted two of the ferals yesterday afternoon after Sunday morning's catfights. MomCat - she's the cat in the banner above - has not sat in my lap since she did once a few months ago but runs tail-up to me and head-butts my shins. Her son Frankie is a coward, her son Napoleon has me completely trained, under the chin first, then ears, I said at a special Sunday Night Edition of Thursday Night Pints, all three of us busy in our own ways during the past week and busy possibly through November, so. I didn't realize I'd have to run a sobriety check point on the way home, said L, noting the major presence of Metro Police in Georgetown at six o'clock. A cop said, L said, when I asked him what's with all the cops, cop said always after <Racist Slurs'> games, lots of DUIs. K asked, as replays of the game ran on TVs around the bar as we sat down, what's with the <Racist Slur> uniforms, why don't they match the helmets? I said, I think they play a home game a year in the true burgundy but I thought they usually wear it with the old burgundy spear helmet. For the record, the Racial Slurs were wearing their standard darker-than-red but brighter-than-burgundy helmets with the Indian-profile logo on the side but minus the yellow stripe that runs down the middle. K said, you notice this shit? L snorted, noticed? He has a theory! True! I said, buy me a pint and I'll tell you.

  • The above two photos, long-timers can vouch, is Fleabus shot by Planet, once upon a blog every day had a Fleabus photo. I didn't ask and it didn't even occur to me to ask for new photos and it didn't occur to her this past unexpected week. All's better. 
  • Fleabus is best cat ever. She has to be nine, ten, we can't remember, she might be eleven, the best cat ever. Click tag Ask Fleabus for more photos. For a lot more, click tag Ask Fleabus at old joint.
  • Planet sends these winter-housing ideas for your feral cats.
  • I said, I think Tiny Danny Snyder said, change the helmet from norm but keep the Indian-profile logo because I met this past week with NFL administrative assistant Goodell and I want to tell the world FUCK YOU! it's the <Racist Slurs'> now and forever for there is no profit in rebranding.
  • Someone with skills, please photoshop for me Tiny Danny Snyder as a Ferengi. Tiny Damon Snyder. Join me in calling the local helmetball team the Ferengi.
  • Who the fuck uses stupidass Star Trek allusion?


Dean Young

This time I’m not going to say a thing   
about deity. It’s not the blizzard,
it’s three days after. Trinkle from thawing   
roofs, ruined crocus pronging through.   
Ruin, I promise, won’t be mentioned again.   
Trees, sure, still begging in the road, split
to the bole but this isn’t about the chainsaw.   
A pruning saw will have to do. The puppets   
aren’t hanging themselves in each other’s   
strings. Everyone’s easily identifiable
beneath the funny mask. Somewhere in Oregon,
Mary has another month to go, she’s comfortable   
in any position for thirty-five seconds. Lulu,   
we know you’re in there but no one’s   
blaming you for reluctance to come out.   
Poetry is the grinding of a multiplicity   
throwing off sparks, wrote Artaud
and look what that got him: toothlessness
and shock therapy. Your dad, who has the worst   
teeth of anyone I know, once ordered eggplant   
in a steakhouse. Do not order eggplant   
in a steakhouse turned out to be more   
than aphoristicly true. Do not spend a lot   
of time in an asylum writing cruel poems   
if you can help it, one Artaud is enough.   
In Kandinsky’s Blue 2, there’s a shape   
in two rows of shapes that seems okay   
although to the right’s a capsized canoe   
full of mathematicians, to the left a bow   
about to launch the killer astrolabe.   
By what manner is the soul joined to
the body? How about climbing a ladder   
of fire? No thanks. On TV, a rhino’s
lying in some red dust, munching a thorn.   
You wouldn’t think he could ejaculate
for half an hour straight, but you’d be wrong.   
See that cloud, it might weigh 10,000 pounds   
which is about average for a cloud.   
Happy birthday, happy birthday to you.
Tony says Mary is always writing about the sacred.   
Talcum powder, binoculars, this decimated   
planet. I know, a promise has been made   
but Tony’s been sick for years and no one   
knows with what. Flax oil, bark tinctures,   
corticosteroids. He’s not exactly someone   
you’d trust to drive your car, but still.
Something awful’s coming, isn’t it?   
Would it help if I said Amen? 


  1. corny pun with cat picture

  2. once when i lived someplace else - a rural area - i was stopped at a sobriety check one weekend evening after having too much wine - i was dressed as a middle class white male middle aged person, and made a point of not breathing in the policeperson's direction - i was a bit surprised that he let me go, and took it as my wakeup call - since then i haven't gotten behind the wheel if have any reason to believe i wouldn't pass a breath test

  3. Something awful’s coming, isn’t it?
    Would it help if I said Amen?

    here's shinzen young's reply when tami simon asked 'why put all this effort into meditation' or words to that effect:

    I just look upon it as a minor discomfort that’s vaccination against future horrific suffering. Let’s just put it this way, after my father died, my mother began meditating. Now, my father had all of the amenities of middle class North American life, but when it came time to die of lung cancer, he went for a week without sleeping—forget about a night—while slowly suffocating. That is physically as extreme as anything anyone ever put themselves through in the name of spiritual practice. That was nonconsensual, okay? And there was nothing to be done about it; the best of medicine could only take the edge off. So the fact is really big stuff can very likely happen to anyone and if it doesn’t happen on the physical level, it’s going to happen on the emotional level. I would rather train myself now, train my body-mind circuits now, and go through a little bit of discomfort if it means I can live my life without being under the sword of Damocles that there’s only a separation of a phone call between everything’s going fine and your world comes to an end.

  4. The otherwise known as the Washington DC football club were wearing their 1936 throwback uniforms. In 1936 the helmets (if one can call them that) were leather. Hence the current-day helmets.

    1. But they wore "leather" helmets last year.

      Unrelated, we found the yarn store in Wheaton when going to Ruan Thai a week or so ago. Earthgirl sends thanks.

  5. At first I thought you said you woke up with Sex & Cake on your mind. I can honestly say it wouldn't've been my first time.

    Fleabus! Planet! Good times.