- If people stopped wishing upon Democrats I wouldn't need call Democrats motherfuckers.
- Motherfucking Democrats in the Mococosm.
- I confess, the last fifteen minutes paying attention to Moco politics is more than the almost 59 years of my life I didn't combined. People can vouch.
- Quote from Post story link: Elrich, a staunch progressive with strong union backing, said in an interview Monday that his critics have unfairly described him as running on a “let’s not have development platform.”“If you’re trying to achieve what I want to achieve, then you need to have money,” Elrich said, noting that if he wants to expand early-childhood education, for example, then he will need to increase the county’s commercial tax base.
- Sinner. He's the guy Earthgirl, Planet and I met at nextdoor neighbor's two months ago, he talked to the three of us for twenty minutes, mostly to Earthgirl and Planet cause they're the teachers, about education policy (Erlich was a public school teacher), and OK, I voted for him, gave the CRANKY SOCIALIST! money too.
- This is the first time - Elrich won by 80 votes - my Moco vote mattered, I'm flustered, bit puffed.
- I want Floreen to run against Elrich so I can digitally flagellate my complicity like I mean it after letting Floreen eat in peace at Black Market Bistro in Parrett Gark when I see her there while I'm forced to eat there multiple times in next few weeks.
- I cannot wait until July 29th.
- Only two posts a year are not tagged My Complicity.
- Life in the Assholocene, me.
- My mofos, Moco and not, there is and will be a "Borth Nethesda" whether I want or not.
TAKING YOUR LIFE
The man's tongue laid down beside him when he slept.
The man did not know it.
He thought his tongue was safe and quiet
In the pillow of his mouth.
The man thought his tongue was his wife.
The man did not know his tongue
Dreamed of touching others,
Longing with pain, moaning with pleasure.
One night the man woke and had no voice.
He felt his mouth, saw his tongue was gone.
He went through the bars looking for his tongue.
He wanted to drink, but he couldn't.
He wanted to sing, but he couldn't.
He envied the musicians.
He heard his tongue was with another.
He went home, sad and imaginary
He dreamed he was a musician,
That his tongue heard him one night,
Fell in love with him,
Came back to live in his mouth.
This was a dream.
His own tongue, the soft root of his death.
It would fly
Out of its lair, light in a tree,
Cast its own shadow on the man.
The man in the darkness with his tongue,
The man with no voice, no lovers.