We Tend to Be Apprehended Eventually, After a Futile but All the More Spirited Attempt at First Degree Self-Impersonation

Bleeding followers at twxxter. Been posting, no more than three an evening to start then two and now one unless Israel commits some new unusually horrific atrocity (so two more than one on average), an image of a Harris *Flower Joy* poster above whatever horrific atrocity Israel committed to prompt posting


After a day I bathed in magafucks megafreaking the fuck out as only magastupid crackerchristers can I saw a twwxt of Hillary Clinton bragging earlier that morning that she's coaching Harris, Hillary Clinton the necessary ipecac when a bad dose of sloppy glee at the zany angst of Gomer Gantry blinds me to the equal evil that is my legacy team. This list is old but still yum

 

When was the last time you thought about Boo Radleys, the black licorice of shoegazer bands? I forget what was controversial about the band and looking it up would be research. You can't be a single-issue voter, you can't make the genocide the single-issue in this election, a tenured professor at Hilltop told me yesterday then launched into an impassioned argument that defeating Trump the *only* issue that matters. Think how much farther to the right the GOP will lurch between now and November, he continued then abruptly said Gotta go after I said the Democrats will leap to fill in the vacuum on the right the GOP abandons. Was curious and checked last night, he unfollowed me on twxxter, whether yesterday or at some earlier point during Joe's genocide I'm not sure

Anatomy of a pogrom:					"The past few weeks have provided an object lesson in the durability and utility of blood libel in the United States
What JD Vance and Donald Trump don't want you to know about Springfield
Historical Precedents to Trump’s Attacks on Haitian Immigrants
"It’s been nauseating to listen to Hillary Clinton moralizing to the likes of Rachel Maddow about Trump and Vance’s racist fear-mongering about Haitians, given the vicious treatment of Haitians by Bill’s administration and the Clinton Foundation"
Some Truth Bombs At the UN						I don't think he intended to imply the second meaning of the word *bombs*
"Everything can be weaponized when transnational ruling class OWNS almost all the planetary communications, productions and distribution and can interject at any point in anything, including your local icecream shop milk. Point is to understand when you (will) become a target"
Who Lost Texas: a report from the Shatterbelt
every accusation is a confession
A bottle of water per email: the hidden environmental costs of using AI chatbots					Brazil burning
Israel's Threat To Wage War On Hizbullah Is Getting More Serious
"Material and rhetorical support for the genocide of the Palestinian people is everywhere. It’s time to ask why"
The weaponization of everything has begun
"The more definitive the proof of Israeli atrocities, the less they get reported"
Turning People Into Involuntary Suicide Bombers To Fight Terrorism
"Israel could livestream Palestinians being put into gas chambers and the State Department would say that they don’t have enough information to comment and they are waiting on the results of an Israeli investigation"
DO YOU HAVE A SINGLE DOUBT THAT TRUMP BELIEVES THE "ASSASSINATION ATTEMPTS" BENEFIT HIM POLITICALLY?
How I was colonized					Bunny is crucial
Free Speech on the Internet: The Crisis of Epistemic Authority
What a lie is for				Why Trump’s lies about Haitians are different
Are Sheriffs Above the Law?
☝	One of many reasons I don't want to move to Michigan (where my daughter and son-in-law live and who I want to live near) is there are no police departments, which suck, only sheriff's offices, which is far far worse
NYPD is one of the largest organized crime mobs in the world
There Are So Many Armed Cops on Subways That Now They’re Shooting Each Other
Death of Tupperware				How natural are we?
The Animals We Fear the Most Are Fading Away
This has nothing to do with whoever John Mulvaney is and everything to do with thirty years ago when Mag Fields felt fresh, sharp, important and new and no one imagined their music would end up on Broadway to squeeze that 69-sponge once more, but ick
Why you can never tune a piano
The revenge of art				Dumpster archeology
Joe Brainard's letters to Jame Schuyler

IMAGO

Franz Wright

From my cell I was staring at a cloud, a dog decaying in the woods, etc., as I took up the long-awaited sequel to my Confessions. By this time my hand was so far away that it looked like a small hairless spider whose progress I could hardly help but follow, from the corner of one eye, as it went on filling page after page in a notebook the size of a stamp with words too small for anyone to read. I looked up and noticed my bars had turned to gold. And before I forget, I’d like to be the first to congratulate everyone who has not committed suicide up until now. Camouflaged and lightless congregation, the world will never know your names, never know of its debt to you, or what you suffered; with what uncomplaining anguish you sacrificed the one thing all hold most dear, most have in common, the sense of being completely different from anybody else—it just vanished at some point, having attained its sexually mature and winged stage. You had a great vision about it, but told no one. We have misnamed death life and life death. You saw another world, and it was precisely the same as this one. This time you told everyone, until someone asked you very nicely to quiet down. And the weather—everything you have heard on that subject is a serious understatement. The scarlet horrors were preparing to file in for my ignominious obsequies, already they swarmed freely over my body. Then, there was no weather. I can’t tell you how perfect that was. As it happens I had been gazing up at the dusk stars, as I can be found doing more or less day and night, for I like to think they are growing younger as I die, come by some time and tell me what you think. Under torture—some atrocious form of tickling, for example—I guess I’d describe myself as a fairly good egg in hot water. Family motto roughly translates, April wizards bring May blizzards. We tend to be apprehended eventually, after a futile but all the more spirited attempt at first degree self-impersonation; however, this is not the time for levity, we happen to be speaking of a serious medical goodnight kiss. Traditionally, we are then detained at a local mental facility known for its celebrated alumni, though in recent decades secret and permanent socialist elements in the government have seen to it that the lowest scum of humanity now appear to have open access to those once hallowed halls smeared with our shit and vomit. What I’m getting at is this: after a relatively brief stay, we are invariably released with some deranged doctor’s or other’s blessing, a mixture of relief and disgust on the part of the staff, and the secret eye-signal that will get you into any movie house in Milwaukee free for the next year. Some of us like to get together once a day, rain or shine, and gather furtively at the picnic grounds under those tall wavering candleflame pines, where neither moth nor rust can reach, nor faintest scream, and exchange ribald tales verging on satanic perversion, each drawing his iridescent injection from the same oceanic martini, very dry, about two tears’ worth of vermouth, in an unremembered dream.