Oof Uk! This is how the GOP has become the succubus of demonic leftism: drinking the palid Kool-Aid of daily news throb from NBCCBSCNN, et al.
I got in a lick, though. Last night, boarding a flight from Denver, I noticed our ex-speaker of the house boarding ahead of me. When I passed his FC seat, I shook his hand, which he returned warmly and with his patented smile. Here I had about a split second of the attention of the former ranking GOP guy of the US house of representatives. I said: “good to see you, Mr Speaker. Please support our president.”
His retort came in perfect Milquetoast Washington words: “Well, he’s done some really good things…” I replied very adamantly, “we LOVE him. Love, love, love…”
My hunting buddy from Seattle called this morn, and when I told him the story, he chuckled and expected that the next part of the story should’ve been about me getting rapped in the head by the air marshall, and dragged down the aisle of the United plane.
Whatever. The GOPe may find Trump to be irregular and oafish, but he’s a better revolution than the one that follows if he somehow leaves office.
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
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?”
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Oof Uk! This is how the GOP has become the succubus of demonic leftism: drinking the palid Kool-Aid of daily news throb from NBCCBSCNN, et al.
I got in a lick, though. Last night, boarding a flight from Denver, I noticed our ex-speaker of the house boarding ahead of me. When I passed his FC seat, I shook his hand, which he returned warmly and with his patented smile. Here I had about a split second of the attention of the former ranking GOP guy of the US house of representatives. I said: “good to see you, Mr Speaker. Please support our president.”
His retort came in perfect Milquetoast Washington words: “Well, he’s done some really good things…” I replied very adamantly, “we LOVE him. Love, love, love…”
My hunting buddy from Seattle called this morn, and when I told him the story, he chuckled and expected that the next part of the story should’ve been about me getting rapped in the head by the air marshall, and dragged down the aisle of the United plane.
Whatever. The GOPe may find Trump to be irregular and oafish, but he’s a better revolution than the one that follows if he somehow leaves office.
“That’s all we talk about down on the line.” 🙂
And it is Geiger for the win!