A help-wanted ad for the Department of Homeland Security, fascist much? And my apologies, I, who underestimate Dump's survival instincts less than most, underestimated him this time, shitlords told him to focus on their shitlord business first, his gauche business second, threatened him (and will continue to threaten him, as will ossadmay) with Epstein (remember that? it was big news a week ago, hot and heavy), and Dump complied, skated, his usefulness to shitlords understandably keeping Dumpty on the wall (rimshot). As I type this sentence Sunday evening August 10th rumor is rampant he will militarize DC tomorrow. As I type this sentence Monday evening August 11th, yup. The shitlord business linked above requires, for now, a broken populace, starting the breakdown in the bluest (and black) city and capital of Magamerica is the sound business decision to start. Chicago's next. Let me say this about that:
This does not and never did exist in real life. The second after I photographed it it died a second ahead of second after second dying to dull muted flat half-colors by Monday late afternoon. I work water on paper, color dying the millisecond applied. This is natural. The bricks have been moved to another project
Besides, I cheat. The photo I took rotated 180 degrees from how I made it (like always, laugh, all these I make, my favorite uncanny me) and cropped to a rough square, and I juggled and enhanced exposure, contrast, and saturation with my chromebook's photothingee so what you are looking at is not what I made except it is
This is true of everything I post at the blog with the title that this blog just had for the last five days in its latest stupidass gag. This the periodical full disclosure, I think it must have been a year at least since the last, probably yesterday. The whatever they are called displayed here exist but not as they appear here. I have not been reading Murnane though I still write like him (I hear it, at least) at times from when I was devout. A few have even dried better than the altered ones displayed here. I give them to my wife and daughter who both, professionals, make art teacher noises of praise. In one of the oldest stupidass gags, almost as old as the stupidass gag where I proudly honor stupidass gags by relentless repeating, fine metaphors abound. Vital reminder:
The lead story as I type this this morning at 830am EDT in the New York Times is headlined FOR TRUMP, CITIES LIKE WASHINGTON ARE REAL ESTATE IN NEED OF FIXING UP because, sure, that's Trump's primary motive for militarizing DC, when my house needed a new roof five years ago I called in the Marines. Not that any major Democrat will bark at the clusterfuck but if one did we'd never know it. There's a link in the grid to an article that applies Kübler-Ross' Five Stages of Grief to you and me and the clusterfuck, that's how irreversible, just like death, your inevitable clusterfuckization and enshittification and immiseration are, don't take it personally, it's just a real estate transaction. One of my oldest gags here: shitlords' actuaries and accountants have run the numbers, shitlords are on the clock in the fucking of you up and they know it and billeting soldiers in your head a key early component. No one is going to fight for us, we need to fight like Bobby. E-A-B, E-A-B-A. We don't have a wah-wah pedal
[I do not always understand what you say]
James Schuyler
I do not always understand what you say.
Once, when you said, across, you meant along.
What is, is by its nature, on display.
Words' meanings count, aside from what they weigh:
poetry, like music, is not just song.
I do not always understand what you say.
You would hate, when with me, to meet by day
What at night you met and did not think wrong.
What is, is by its nature, on display.
I sense a heaviness in your light play,
a wish to stand out, admired, from the throng.
I do not always understand what you say.
I am as shy as you. Try as we may,
only by practice will our talks prolong.
What is, is by its nature, on display.
We talk together in a common way.
Art, like death, is brief: life and friendship long.
I do not always understand what you say.
What is, is by its nature, on display.



