Monday, 11/23/2015

Knock Knock

Who's there?


November 23, 11:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

He found it strange at first.

Cullen in the Afterlife:

Gone—that shadowy assembly—vanished, done.
Gone without substance. Like himself. A shell.
Insensate in a flash. (What was that flash—
bereft of all but essence?) Was it death?
He wondered about the word, so filled with breath
yet breathless, breathless, breathless. A full stop.
Divino Espirito Santo,” he had said
once in Brazil, “Soul of my very soul.”
He’d prayed in Portuguese, an easier tongue—
for newly agnostic Anglos—than his own,
burdened with shibboleths and past beliefs.
“Alma de minha alma”—liquid words
that made a calm within him. Where within?
Was there a word for it? Was it his heart?

P. K. Page.


November 23, 11:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Franklin Wept

Dr Rocket Twofer:

Republican presidential candidate Dr. Ben Carson said in an interview that aired Sunday that Thomas Jefferson wrote the Constitution. But in reality, the founding father was the lead author of the Declaration of Independence.

It's not the first time Carson has gotten United States history wrong. As The Wall Street Journal previously flagged, Carson erroneously said the founding fathers had "no elected office experience."

Yes, I've long been interested in separating Carson's conjoined twins of fact and fiction.  But he's not alone in conflating the Declaration with our Constitution, nor in suggesting our Founders lacked experience.


November 23, 10:38 PM in Constitution, Schmonstitution | Permalink | Comments (0)

Freedom Of Speech Isn't Free

Oh, Dr Rocket Surgeon:

After a brief moment near the top of the Republican field, Ben Carson’s numbers have been on the decline. Clearly feeling the pressure to say something crazy enough to outdo professional lunatic Donald Trump, Carson just went full-fascist. And you never go full-fascist.

Having already admitted that he likes the idea of keeping American Muslims (and foreigners) in databases to be watched, Carson seems to be warming to expanding that surveillance to other groups he doesn’t like. At a rally in Columbia, South Carolina, Carson dropped the bombshell that he believes any “anti-American” group should be monitored.

“What I have said is that I would be in favor of monitoring a mosque or any church or any organization or any school or any press corps where there was a lot of radicalization and things that were anti-American.”

As recently as October, Carson was suggesting that there needs to be a ban on “liberal” speech on college campuses.

“I actually have something I would use the Department of Education to do,” Carson remarked. “It would be to monitor our institutions of higher education for extreme political bias and deny federal funding if it exists.”

His own supporters told him that was dangerously close to censorship, so he assured them that he didn’t mean right-wing speech, he was talking about liberalism.

Don't forget to monitor Quakers.  Those fucking Quakers.  Anyway, brings to mind Milton's Areopagitica, published on this date in 1644:

We can grow ignorant again, brutish, formal and slavish...Give me the liberty to know, to utter, and to argue freely according to conscience, above all liberties.

Free to know what Dr Carson thinks he knows...


November 23, 10:05 PM in Conscience, Constitution, Schmonstitution | Permalink | Comments (0)

Sunday, 11/22/2015

I'd Be A Shitty Landlord

Because I can't dance, no matter the venue.


November 22, 11:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Far Out

I Grant You Ample Leave:

"I grant you ample leave
To use the hoary formula 'I am'
Naming the emptiness where thought is not;
But fill the void with definition, 'I'
Will be no more a datum than the words
You link false inference with, the 'Since' & 'so'
That, true or not, make up the atom-whirl.
Resolve your 'Ego', it is all one web
With vibrant ether clotted into worlds:
Your subject, self, or self-assertive 'I'
Turns nought but object, melts to molecules,
Is stripped from naked Being with the rest
Of those rag-garments named the Universe.
Or if, in strife to keep your 'Ego' strong
You make it weaver of the etherial light,
Space, motion, solids & the dream of Time —
Why, still 'tis Being looking from the dark,
The core, the centre of your consciousness,
That notes your bubble-world: sense, pleasure, pain,
What are they but a shifting otherness,
Phantasmal flux of moments? —"

George Eliot.


November 22, 10:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

he left it no doubt

It's a revival!


November 22, 9:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Happy Birthday, Portia

Abigail Adams yet lives politics, as do we all...


November 22, 8:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Saturday, 11/21/2015

Grand Pas de Deux

It's that time...


November 21, 11:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

time continued as it coiled, on hold

The House of Time:

And fleetingly it seemed to him
That in between one eye blink and the next
Time paused, allowing time to be installed
Within that countless interim,
Coiled up, on hold,
A memory predicted and recalled.
Now, that weak muscle flexed,
All that contained him started to unfold
In front of him, a moving book
In three dimensions he could wander through,
At will, at any point, now, since, before,
To feel, to listen and to look—
A house, or suite
Of rooms around a circling corridor,
And waiting there, he knew,
Were all the peopled days he’d not repeat.
Slowly he stretched his hand to open
The first door on his right. Why, this was easy:
Christmas when he was seven, and his aunt
Playing a polonaise by Chopin,
Badly. “Lenore,
We know you think you can, dear, but you can’t.”
And he was resting, queasy
From too much pudding. Now, another door...

Stephen Edgar.


November 21, 10:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The Palace Is Puzzled

Oh, FFS:

After a series of unexpected and devastating attacks, counterterrorism officials believe that it’s getting harder to track ISIS because they “go dark” through the use of encryption messaging and apps.

Yes, I'm sure the NSA has absolutely no ability to decrypt messages because Obama gutted their supercomputer budget.  So be very afraid, citizen, and don't worry about the snooping on our own territory...


November 21, 6:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)


No, my new gig hasn't made me self-conscious at all...


November 21, 12:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Friday, 11/20/2015

Before Chris Christie Could Castigate Teachers For Not Open Carrying

November 20, 1789:

Be it enacted by the Council and General Assembly of this State, and it is hereby enacted by the authority of the same, That the following Articles, proposed by Congress, in addition to, and amendment of, the Constitution of the United States,

[Here follow, verbatim, the first, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh, and twelfth Articles of the said Amendments proposed by Congress to the Legislatures of the several States.]

Be, and the same are hereby, ratified and adopted by the State of New Jersey.

And to think it only took two more years to codify the Right To Keep And Bear Arms, after which tyranny was finally held at bay forever and always...


November 20, 9:16 PM in Constitution, Schmonstitution | Permalink | Comments (0)

Every Sadie Wants To Rule The World

"Daddy!  I missed you today!"

At dropoff, Sadie was so excited that she was line leader on the Job Chart.  Screaming and jumping, she ran over to Mrs H, "I'M LINE LEADER!  YAY!  I'M LINE LEADER!"

Me: Yes, and next you'll rule the world.

Mrs H: I have no doubt!  Right, Sadie?

Sadie: Yup.  Bye Daddy, see you later!

Thus I was dismissed.

At least she was excited to see me at pickup.


November 20, 3:12 PM in Family Life | Permalink | Comments (0)

Thursday, 11/19/2015

That may have been a small one for Neil...



November 19, 10:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Dedicated To Mr Missing Four Teeth Boy

Toth Farry:

Dear Toth Farry, Plees Giv Me   
A Bag of Moany. I pore over the shards,   
a skeleton-lover—but who could throw out   
these short pints of osseus breastmilk,   
or the wisdom, with its charnel underside,   
and its dome, smooth and experienced,   
ground in anger, rinsed in silver   
when the mouth waters. From above, its knurls   
are a cusp-ring of mountain tops   
around an amber crevasse, where in high   
summer the summit wildflowers open   
for a day—Crown Buttercup, Alpine Flames,   
Shooting-Star, Rosy Fairy Lantern,   
Cream Sacs, Sugar Scoop.

Sharon Olds.


November 19, 9:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Thank G-d Men Finally Get A Day Of Recognition

No, seriously.  But let's do blame the feminazis.  They're awful.


November 19, 9:11 PM in Soaking In Patriarchy | Permalink | Comments (0)


Ericka went to Sadie's first parent-teacher conference today!

So naturally they had a photo shoot by the school shed.

I kinda can't wait until she loses those dangerous baby teeth.


November 19, 8:34 PM in Family Life | Permalink | Comments (0)


25 months ago.


November 19, 7:21 PM in Family Life | Permalink | Comments (0)

Jesus Would Hunt Syrian Refugees For Sport, Also, Too

Palin errs along with Boykin and Fischer on Jesus' love of open carry.


November 19, 6:42 PM in Constitution, Schmonstitution | Permalink | Comments (1)

Wednesday, 11/18/2015

Toot Toot!



November 18, 10:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The darkness drops again but now I know

A slouching giant goes meta...


November 18, 9:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Nothing to ponder. This is the plight.

No One Goes to Paris in August:

All of us smell of heat all the time.
We are the living. Oh dear!
There are the dead ones there.
Their thoughts more familiar, though.
Lives finished, nearly clear.
And they make it possible for us to go on living
as we do in their blue shade.

Clarence Major.


November 18, 9:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Tuesday, 11/17/2015

But We Won't Take The Slavs

25 years ago yesterday.


November 17, 10:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

America Has Always Welcomed Newcomers

Middle Passage:

Shuttles in the rocking loom of history,   
the dark ships move, the dark ships move,   
their bright ironical names
like jests of kindness on a murderer’s mouth;   
plough through thrashing glister toward   
fata morgana’s lucent melting shore,   
weave toward New World littorals that are   
mirage and myth and actual shore.
Voyage through death,
                               voyage whose chartings are unlove.

Robert Hayden.


November 17, 9:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Brave New World

We monks of the dystopia cast our magic by candlelight.


November 17, 12:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)