Barking Gladly in the Last

Two nights ago I had B-52 song put in my head - twaater asked me my 2AM driving back roads alone youth song (I still think I am young) and

• Last night I saw twaater that yesterday 40th birthday of Yellow Album (forgive 
• me, there is Yellow Album and Red Album then the rest of their career 
• I....) Blessed be Serendipity, I do not kid, I need faith too

• Serendipity also blesses you, removes my urge to bark at what you can bark at yourself if the links below make you bark at the necessarily documented duh but
• in real life I obviously know people who think like me and many more people who get what I'm saying even if they quibble-haggle-disagree-argue
• but this is true at work too, an admittedly more liberal place to work than most, and true too of my neighbors in an admittedly more liberal place to live than most, and true too at My Organic Market, an admittedly more liberal place to shop than Safeway
• but this equivalency motherfucking Democrats use that anyone asking them to fight the fuck back is the same as Trump bowing to his cracker base, Blessed be my primal pleasures (see link above) Serendipity
• my faith in same, urp, sorry....

• Update: new at other place
• America
• The moral cowardice of the Democratic Party
• OK-enough, above, but moral cowardice implies they think they are in the wrong and don't choose to act, they don't think they are wrong or they know they are wrong but don't care
• Upduh: we're not the good guys
• I. H. M. D. 
• Liberals: a story in four parts
• The craven bias of the American press
• Three Marxist takes on climate change
• Update w question! Honest wonder: is Epstein the Trump exfil that's been in the can until needed? Take him out and bless all the collateral damage? 
• Avedon's occasional links  
• Maggie's weekly links
• { feuilleton }'s weekly links
• Also 1979
• Rest in Peace, João Gilberto

  
CONSOLATION

Wisława Szymborska
- Translated by Clare Cavanagh

Darwin.

They say he read novels to relax,

But only certain kinds:

nothing that ended unhappily.

If anything like that turned up,

enraged, he flung the book into the fire.

True or not,

I’m ready to believe it.

Scanning in his mind so many times and places,

he’d had enough of dying species,

the triumphs of the strong over the weak,

the endless struggles to survive,

all doomed sooner or later.

He’d earned the right to happy endings,

at least in fiction

with its diminutions.

Hence the indispensable

silver lining,

the lovers reunited, the families reconciled,

the doubts dispelled, fidelity rewarded,

fortunes regained, treasures uncovered,

stiff-necked neighbors mending their ways,

good names restored, greed daunted,

old maids married off to worthy parsons,

troublemakers banished to other hemispheres,

forgers of documents tossed down the stairs,

seducers scurrying to the altar,

orphans sheltered, widows comforted,

pride humbled, wounds healed over,

prodigal sons summoned home,

cups of sorrow thrown into the ocean,

hankies drenched with tears of reconciliation,

general merriment and celebration,

and the dog Fido,

gone astray in the first chapter,

turns up barking gladly

in the last.