Via the Cat in the BigFurHat at IOTW Report
![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]")
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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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Hmm, now wait a minute….
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_P7EkR8UjFs
I hope he isn’t invited to throw out the first pitch at the Blue Jays home opener– it would be embarrassing for the Toronto catcher. Although le petit Justin could probably fit into Obama’s mom jeans just fine.
It’s painful as a Canadian to have to watch this.
Imagine Trump dancing like this for votes.
Looks Hollywood to me. Plenty of similar clowns in the USA currently. The coming mongols will eat them all.
hey-
isn’t that cultural appropriation?
how dare he!
Not a bone in his wrist.
Next time some retard says trump is acting/speaking unpresidential point them in this direction.
Politicians haven’t “risen” to the position for a long time, maybe never.
Has it all been fake?
Good God, what an embarrassment. All he needs to complete that performance is to be joined in his fruity little dance by Johnny Weir. They would have to peel them apart.
Is that “Gay Soul Train”?
He actually moves his body pretty well. Youthful. BUT, as a Prime Minister of Canada on an official trip, he’s just a silly embarrassment. He belongs at a very cool Bollywood-themed party in Vancouver, chilling with the most beautiful people..
For your dancing pleasure:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZqZZXBYn0pg
Oh, Canada…