Bluto: “What? Over? Did you say ‘over’? Nothing is over until we decide it is! Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no!…”
“Germans?”
“Forget it, he’s rolling.”
Bluto: “What? Over? Did you say ‘over’? Nothing is over until we decide it is! Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no!…”
“Germans?”
“Forget it, he’s rolling.”
Address for Donations, Complaints, Brickbats, and — oh yes — Donations
In Memory Of W.B. Yeats
Intellectual disgrace
Stares from every human face,
And the seas of pity lie
Locked and frozen in each eye.
Follow, poet, follow right
To the bottom of the night,
With your unconstraining voice
Still persuade us to rejoice.
With the farming of a verse
Make a vineyard of the curse,
Sing of human unsuccess
In a rapture of distress.
In the deserts of the heart
Let the healing fountains start,
In the prison of his days
Teach the free man how to praise.
– – WH Auden
from “1054 AD”
Sometimes it seems I had a dream, and, as a dreamer woke immersed in mineral baths closed within a cool, dark chamber fed by streams flowing in from the center of nowhere.
Hanging from the granite ceiling a kerosene lantern cast shards of light through the pale steam rising from the surface of the pools.
Ripples radiated outwards from the edges of my body and tapping faintly on the rock revealed the edges of the chamber.
Outside I could hear the wind slide across the spine of the mountains, speaking in a language that I remembered but could no longer understand.
Steam filled my nostrils and heat penetrated my bones until, after a time, I had no body, only a sense of silence and distance and calm.
As if I had just woken from all water into dream.
— Tassajara Zen Mountain Center, 1973
Your Say
My Thinking Hat
My Back Pages
FSA/8d22000/8d224008d22491a.tif
Search American Digest’s Back Pages
The People Yes
The steel mill sky is alive.
The fire breaks white and zigzag
shot on a gun-metal gloaming.
Man is a long time coming.
Man will yet win.
Brother may yet line up with brother:
This old anvil laughs at many broken hammers.
There are men who can’t be bought.
The fireborn are at home in fire.
The stars make no noise,
You can’t hinder the wind from blowing.
Time is a great teacher.
Who can live without hope?
In the darkness with a great bundle of grief
the people march.
In the night, and overhead a shovel of stars for keeps, the people
march:
“Where to? what next?”
— Carl Sandberg
Camouflage
Sourdough Mountain Lookout
Down valley a smoke haze
Three days heat, after five days rain
Pitch glows on the fir-cones
Across rocks and meadows
Swarms of new flies.
I cannot remember things I once read
A few friends, but they are in cities.
Drinking cold snow-water from a tin cup
Looking down for miles
Through high still air.
BY GARY SNYDER
Chimes of Freedom
Starry-eyed an’ laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time an’ we watched with one last look
Spellbound an’ swallowed ’til the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an’ worse
An’ for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
The Vault
My Back Pages
Byzantium
That is no country for old men. The young
In one another’s arms, birds in the trees
—Those dying generations—at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.
O sages standing in God’s holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.
Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.
– – W. B. Yeats, 1865 – 1939
De Breanski
VAN GOGH
Hillegas
To the Stonecutters
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
Real World Address for Donations, Mash Notes and Hate Mail
from “1054 AD”
Sometimes it seems I had a dream, and, as a dreamer woke immersed in mineral baths closed within a cool, dark chamber fed by streams flowing in from the center of nowhere.
Hanging from the granite ceiling a kerosene lantern cast shards of light through the pale steam rising from the surface of the pools.
Ripples radiated outwards from the edges of my body and tapping faintly on the rock revealed the edges of the chamber.
Outside I could hear the wind slide across the spine of the mountains, speaking in a language that I remembered but could no longer understand.
Steam filled my nostrils and heat penetrated my bones until, after a time, I had no body, only a sense of silence and distance and calm.
As if I had just woken from all water into dream.
— Tassajara Zen Mountain Center, 1973
Comments on this entry are closed.
I wouldn’t bother offering this worm the customary pistol and one round prior to his execution.
…how do I get this hook outta my mouth?
This young man has some seriously impressive troll game. And somewhere tonight, Tiger Woods is muttering to himself, “Arby’s. Damn. Gotta try that….”
jeezis kryyst
I only watched a min and I was already reaching for the boat paddle in the corner.
What in the fucking fuck is wrong with that person?
I see no value in that human but I do see constant turmoil to others throughout it’s existence.
My hope is someone puts an end to it.
Get a grip… you believed this?? This is the same dude who delivered a comedic masterpiece to the mayor of Dallas a couple of weeks ago. He proclaimed to be from the wealthiest nearby suburb, played the privileged white male to the max, and was aghast that the illegal aliens who manicure his lawn and babysit his kids are getting vaxxed… and dying… just when the kids were getting used to having these slaves in their vicinity. This is satire deluxe and he’s probably already appearing at comedy clubs. If such a thing exists anymore.
You’re right. I should have just shut my ass until the truth came out. You can’t trust anything any more.
Don’t feel bad, Ghostie. In the world we currently inhabit the line between truth and parody is a thin one, often disappearing even as we observe it. In fact, it is now more likely that everything is actually a parody of real life. Ersatz life has replaced the real thing. Nevertheless, I would also like to take a metaphorical 2×4 to all the people who really think along those lines. (If given half a chance, I might be tempted to use a real piece of lumber.)
I think he nailed the whiney, selfish, highly FUBAR left wing prog very accurately.
Please let this be sarcasm. A joke. A planned comedy. Please.
If it is real, then this “guy” needs to wear a life-long straight jacket and be placed in a rubber room until Christ returns. Or longer.
My soul is at peace: It is comedy. Serves me right as I have not been to a comedy club or watched a routine for 35 years.
Not sarcasm, but sarchasm: The abyss that separates the joke from the one who doesn’t get that it is a joke.
THAT is very clever, Jewel. Thanks for providing the insight.
Guilty, alas.
After I watched the video, then picked my jaw up off the floor, I reached the conclusion that no one is actually that insane, and it has to be a put-on.
However, if it’s seriously NOT a joke and really IS a real person stating his real opinion, I see no reason that his heart should be not be immediately stopped- as a “post-partum” abortion.
As he said- it would be our “Constitutional right.”
Pete, I agree with you on a lot of comments but this is an overweening machete slice of the heads of the Left. And, maybe instead of considering his final farewell a ‘constitutional right’, we ought substitute ‘mercy killing’ or ‘moral imperative’ and act as quickly as possible.
The housekeeper problem.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=JKP7NY6z388
That was funny as hell! Watch the WHOLE thing!!! That dude is genius!!!
This man is hereby nominated for Best Actor,for his heart-rending performance of a soymilksop denizen of (pick it) Blue Hive.
Really good acting,and comedic chops here,well done.
Your award for facing Leviathan squarely in its ugly-ass face is that it will attempt to squash you like the bugs they expect us to eat.
Resist.
He delivers a giant troll, well done. That it has to be explained adds to his genius.
Thanks for finding that link. It was early August when I saw this and forgot the details. He’s speaking to the actual mayor of Dallas, who is a black lesbian apparently, and he wants all the slaves to get vaxxed. Because it upsets his kids when they keel over dead. I’m not going to buy the CD and drive around listening to this… once is enough… but he’s doing a pretty good job of portraying a wealthy psychotic narcissist who will not tolerate any inconvenience in his privileged life.
“Fake but accurate”
The fake upset crying was beautiful. He presented his case as the crying victim. Boo…Fucking…Hoo. Lets make the victims…really victims.
As I looked at this again, it occurred to me that this guy has become a master of Alinsky’s Rule 5….
…”5. Ridicule is man’s most potent weapon. There is no defense. It is almost impossible to counterattack ridicule. Also it infuriates the opposition, who then react to your advantage.”
Alinsky’s unwritten rule No. 5 3/4: If your opposition uses this tactic on you, pretend that he didn’t say anything at all.
THAT was OUTSTANDING!!!! He really laid it on, strong, deeeeeeeep, and EEEEEEEEmotional!!!
DAMN, he’s GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!
Textania McGrath.
The funniest part of this is the commenters that think this dude is serious!
A troll like that must be getting calls from the Biden administration; they need speech writers.
We live in *The Age of the Troll*, and this guy is one of its avatars.