If You Say So, "Boss," I'll Retract My Statement

I asked my Hillaryite Colleague, hey, does Hillary Clinton know how and where oligarchs launder money even if she is not laundering money herself? Fuck you, he said, then looked at his watch, said, gotta run. Wait, I said, her argument why she'd be the best president isn't that her intimate understanding of the secret inner-workings of the planet's evillest, greediest, and most cruelly ruthless motherfuckers best qualifies her for cutthroat negotiations with the world's most pathological assholes? Fuck you, he said. I said, take this latest earth-shaking leak, RICH FUCKS LAUNDER MONEY! do you think she was briefed at the minimum, kept in loop, consulted for advice as to it's launch and timing, gave the final OK? The fuck, he said.

• Forgive me, I enjoyed that too much.
• Calculating the lesser evil.
• Citizens United & HRC.
• Clinton laughs at you, you silly idealist kid, you.
• Oopsy! Bill accidentally pockets half a million.
• It's the 1099 economy, stupid.
• The end of ordinary politics.
• Of course David Cameron did. When was the last time I trotted out my old gag about America being ten years behind Britain? Prolly not as long ago as I think.
• Purple Line.
• tasks.
• That's new Ashbery down below Answering Machine.
• Adrienne Rich and her feminist awakening (h/t Hamster!)
• I don't know Merle Haggard's music to mourn him, but here's an hour of his music on WFMU last night.
• Bonnie Prince Billy's lost EP of covers. Want.
• The True Story of The Replacements.
• Swinging Party.

TEXT TREK

John Ashbery

If you say so, "boss," I'll retract my statement.
Only I wouldn't be so radiant if I was you.
The ripple effect, strength in deterioration,
has expanded on more than a handful.
                                                              Have a good time,
just get out of the hurricane entrance. I'll see you
there on all fives, explains Lucy.
A face named Al remarked on the long destiny
between veils, where nobody noodles too long
anyway. Less remarked on is the mask-laden buffet.
Angels wash their faces. Lady Godiva for one.
Leave some room for the astonishingly mild
ripple-effect milkweed fence. And say, once that has
lapsed, go on a trip right now. Don't we have to register?
A slow branch is to be beheaded. Old trash,
what somebody said half a million times,
chimes farther down in the seat.

Unhouse the birds. Make your time over there
a ribald heraldry of number-coaching animals,
better early than never. Why, I thought so.
I was right about the comet
and the cement plant fluke, subway Grandma.