HappyAcres (@HappyHectares) | Twitter
I can assure you Elizabeth Warren has already taken a DNA test.
— HappyAcres (@HappyHectares) March 12, 2018
Next post: How To Stop School Shootings
Previous post: “Live Not By Lies” — Alexander Solzhenitsyn
Home is where one starts from. As we grow older
The world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated
Of dead and living. Not the intense moment
Isolated, with no before and after,
But a lifetime burning in every moment
And not the lifetime of one man only
But of old stones that cannot be deciphered.
There is a time for the evening under starlight,
A time for the evening under lamplight
(The evening with the photograph album).
Love is most nearly itself
When here and now cease to matter.
Old men ought to be explorers
Here or there does not matter
We must be still and still moving
Into another intensity
For a further union, a deeper communion
Through the dark cold and the empty desolation,
The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters
Of the petrel and the porpoise. In my end is my beginning.
When all Earth’s seas shall Levitate,
Dark shawled within the skies,
Upon our eyes will Starfish dance
Their waltz of Blind surprise.
The sun will Rise within wine Dark
As Argonauts imbibed,
Whose drunken arms embrace that sleep
Where Phaeton’s horses Stride.
Upon all of Earth’s wind-sanded shores,
As dolphins Learn to soar,
All we once were on the land
Shall be sealed behind the door
Of Ivory and Chastened Gold,
That the Mystery solved complete
Shall never til the seas’ Long fall
Wake mariners from their sleep.
— Van der Leun
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
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
— The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T. S. Eliot
Gerard Van der Leun
Comments on this entry are closed.
Every time I see Land O’ Lakes box I remember a time way back in high school where someone cut the knees off the picture of the Land O’ Lakes girl and glued them on her chest… well it was high school funny.
I thought of the same thing. And it’s still funny! But what we did was cut the bottom and sides of the box she’s holding to make a flap, and then tape another set of knees behind the flap. So you had to lift the flap to get a peek. Surprisingly convincing!
You are absolutely right about that DNA test. Lies-As-She-Walks has suddenly become Spit-And-Shut Up.
I saw the same thing in jr high.
You cut out the butter box she’s holding.
Then you cut the sides of her knees the same width as the butter box hole.
Fold it in such a way that the knees become the titties.
Yung dooz got a kik outta that shit.
Still get a kick out of that juvenile trick. I think it works better if you use a second panel for the knees, and tape that piece behind the butter box, cut out on only three sides to form a flap. They used to have a box with the label “Tasty Butter Tips” that was ideal for the purpose.
The Fauxcahontas box design is hilarious, too. Now if we can only get President Trump to realize that her nickname is Fauxcahontas instead of Pocahontas . . . .
The DNA ethnicity tests are far from perfect, and I am not sure I would trust the results from any of the usual vendors. However, the results of very detailed genealogies are indisputable.
No matter, Fauxcahontas did not meet the federally-approved standard for being entitled for advancement as a Native American, in that she has zero-zilch-nada history of any involvement in any cultural or community activity whatsoever with any Native American group. I think it is only too clear that she claimed Cherokee ancestry to get a leg up at Harvard, and stopped claiming it when it was no longer necessary to further her career. That’s just despicable.
The matter of her family folklore is interesting but unsubstantiated. A similar example is the Hildebeast’s comment that she was named after Sir Edmund P Hillary – something that is manifestly impossible since Sir Edmund was an unknown New Zealand beekeeper when HRC was born, and did not become famous until some 7 years later. However, I think it is plausible that Hillary’s parents told her, when she was 7 or 8, that she had been named after Sir Edmund, and that she never thought that through and naively believed it all her life. So too, Fauxcahontas might have been told about Cherokee ancestry – but I think there is no evidence that anyone else in her family ever believed it.
My family is one that never claimed their Cherokee heritage. My great grandmother, a Cherokee, married my great grandfather who was a physician in Oklahoma. She would not allow her family to register when the government started establishing the native database because blacks were registering to avoid being labeled Negro. One of my aunts claimed her status, was involved for years in native American ceremonies and politics, and became close friends with Billy Mills, the Indian activist and 10K Olympic gold medalist in 1964. Tracing my mother’s family back 15 generations, my grandfather was a Major General at Jamestown, Virginia and survived the massacre by Indians on March 22, 1622 that killed some one-third of the colonists.
Fauxcahontas…*spit*