Yes, it’s a silent screen, but wait for it… wait for it.
Updated with a version with an appropriate soundtrack.
![That Was the Whopper Weekend That Was [Illustrated]](https://americandigest.org/wp/wp-content/uploads/2021/05/welcometohell-150x150.jpg "That Was the Whopper Weekend That Was [Illustrated]")
![Updated Green Cake Notes: "MacArthur Park" Everyone Knows the Refrain. Everyone Wishes They Didn't. [UPDATED w/ fresh Donna Summer]](https://americandigest.org/wp/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/aacakeintherain-150x150.jpg "Updated Green Cake Notes: \"MacArthur Park\" Everyone Knows the Refrain. Everyone Wishes They Didn't. [UPDATED w/ fresh Donna Summer]")
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Stone-cutters fighting time with marble, you foredefeated
Challengers of oblivion
Eat cynical earnings, knowing rock splits, records fall down,
The square-limbed Roman letters
Scale in the thaws, wear in the rain. The poet as well
Builds his monument mockingly;
For man will be blotted out, the blithe earth die, the brave sun
Die blind and blacken to the heart:
Yet stones have stood for a thousand years, and pained
thoughts found
The honey of peace in old poems.
— Robinson Jeffers
His soul stretched tight across the skies
That fade behind a city block,
Or trampled by insistent feet
At four and five and six o’clock;
And short square fingers stuffing pipes,
And evening newspapers, and eyes
Assured of certain certainties,
The conscience of a blackened street
Impatient to assume the world.
I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some infinitely gentle
Infinitely suffering thing.
Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh;
The worlds revolve like ancient women
Gathering fuel in vacant lots.
— Eliot
I CELEBRATE myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this
air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their
parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
— Walt Whitman
The scientists are in terror
and the European mind stops
Wyndham Lewis chose blindness
rather than have his mind stop.
Night under wind mid garofani,
the petals are almost still
Mozart, Linnaeus, Sulmona,
When one’s friends hate each other
how can there be peace in the world?
Their asperities diverted me in my green time.
A blown husk that is finished
but the light sings eternal
a pale flare over marshes
where the salt hay whispers to tide’s change
Time, space,
neither life nor death is the answer.
And of man seeking good,
doing evil.
In meiner Heimat
where the dead walked
and the living were made of cardboard.
Gerard Van der Leun
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Yaay!
Fall down,. go SPLATT.
Just a guess, but I think they voted for Trudeau.
Needs “Yakety Sax.”
The latest video evidence that small time criminals are morons.
Nothing needs Yakety Sax!
Oh darn it all, I missed it. The video is now “unavailable.”
Fixed with another version of the same video.
OK, that was worth the wait! (I’m glad you found it, I thought it had been “disappeared” forever.)
The updated Benny Hill version was best, I still miss that guy (my wife did not appreciate his humor, but can’t please everybody!) The girl falling through the ceiling was just hilarious!
At minimum, those two should be sterilized.
Wait. They have crime in Canuckistan? I thought all the Tories were as noble and pure as the driven snow, compared to their obstreperous and depraved rebel cousins to the south. They run around the world with a maple leaf flag stuck on all their accoutrements, lest they be mistaken. Oh well, I guess it’s only the Anglos now that misbehave, because as we all know all the “asians” and africans are far more noble and valuable members of Canuck society.