Saw a realitive close up of that punk awhile back and he looked diseased, syphilitic and drawn.
BTW, I heard pappy Bush voted for the punks wife. I’d like to think it was a lie.
On this week’s episode of “Bill’s-A-Poppin”: Physiognomy Is Real, or You Can Judge A Book By It’s Cover.
John A. FlemingApril 18, 2018, 8:35 PM
Jeez ya old goatse, xyz.
And if you’re dumb enough to be ogling Noo Yawk sidewalk wildlife both carrying their whelps, then you deserve everything bad that has ever happened or will happen in every one of your useless lives. Those two vampires would suck you to a lifeless husk in a ny minute.
Blew that image up about 2x. Still very good quality. The open fly looks photoshopped to me, and not very good shopping at that. Sorry if I rained on this picnic.
RigelDogApril 19, 2018, 8:53 AM
I would believe almost any sexual perversion of Clinton, but this photo is odd and does not convince me.
OldFertApril 19, 2018, 9:18 AM
I’ve seen a lot of comments about Clinton going to some island with lots of young kids. Most articles state or imply strongly that the purpose of the underage people there are for sex purposes.
There’s a different possibility, though.
Maybe they’re going to pedo island not (just) for the sex, but for blood.
I remember reading articles, via Instapundit, about medical testing in rodents that blood from young mice transfused to old mice had a sort of “fountain of youth” result.
I found this creepy article https://www.inverse.com/article/29604-parabiosis-peter-thiel-blood
which was really creepy. A pull quote: “In 1924, the physician and Bolshevik Alexander Bogdanov began young-blood transfusions, and a fellow-revolutionary wrote that he ‘seems to have become seven, no, ten years younger.’ Then Bogdanov injected himself with blood from a student who had both malaria and tuberculosis, and died.”
Fun article.
revjen45April 19, 2018, 9:53 AM
Photoshopped or not, it’s still funny.
u.k.(us)April 19, 2018, 11:54 AM
Where’s the Secret Service when you need them, he could have been raped.
EskymanApril 19, 2018, 2:30 PM
Much as I loathe and detest Blow Job Bill, that photo doesn’t show his open fly.
It’s his dark glasses. I used to carry mine hooked into my belt, and that’s how it looked.
I reckon OldFert has a really great point about blood transfusions on Pedo Island; I can see BJ going there for underage sex, that fits his M.O. right down to the ground. But it never seemed to fit Hitlery, who is power-mad & money-mad, but sex with kids just didn’t seem to be something she’d be interested in. Besides, she’s got Huma whenever she needs servicing.
But drinking or injecting children’s blood- well, that fits the old witch to a “T!” I hope she catches something really dreadful, that leads to a slow, miserable & painful death for her, if this surmise is true. (Or even if it isn’t, considering how much harm she’s caused to so many people.)
[My apologies if this post appears more than once; my first two efforts vanished without trace, so this is #3, using a different browser.]
VanderleunApril 19, 2018, 4:31 PM
Notes on Comments: Every so often the spam/troll filter selects a perfectly OK comment and holds it in moderation with no notice given (sorry about that. It’s the way this theme is shaped.).
In general I will look through comments from the edit board and approve those mistakenly held for some reason by the filter. I’ll then approve them manually.
Sorry about this but it seems to be how this leopard is spotted.
John A. FlemingApril 19, 2018, 10:36 PM
I beg to differ with BillH and Eskyman.
First bit of evidence. The Grifter’s left hand is in his pocket. His jeans are tight at the waist cuz his stomach is bulging. Tight enough that when he stuck his hand in his pocket, you can see the diagonaling fold coming down from the inside top corner of the pocket that pulls the zipper flap away from it’s normal position. By the folds of the leg, he’s wearing normal denim, not that lycra stretchy stuff that the NY man-eaters and soibois wear. So when he stuck his hand in his pocket, the space for it took the path of least resistance.
Second bit of evidence. You can see the stitch line coming down the outside of the zipper flap, the stitch line that holds the zipper to the flap. You can see the discoloring/fading following the stitch line. I got well-worn jeans like that.
Nah, no photoshop, the old goatse lost his train of thought when he was trying to get the last dribble out. Now mind I’m not saying that’s not never happened to me, but I get to claim that I was in a godawful hurry to get to work or thinking about work or something like that, and I was trying to get outta the house or outta the loo as fast as I could. The Grifter got’s no such excuse. He’s got nothing to do all day ‘cept chase young trim.
Colin the little brown emojiApril 21, 2018, 6:29 AM
Amazing he can stand on a public street without someone coming up and bitch-slapping the commie snot out of him.
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.
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
“From a student radical/hippie/leftist of the Free Speech Movement/Vietnam Day Commitee era and a full-on Democratic Liberal in the decades after, I think I’ve evolved a politics that is neither right nor left but is, in its elemental nature, draconian. In the last 20 years, I’ve taken apart my beliefs with a sledgehammer. Now I’ve got to put the surviving parts back together with tweezers and other ‘shabby equipment, always deteriorating’.”
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
Gerard Van der Leun
1692 MANGROVE AVE
APT 379
Chico, Ca 95926
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.
![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]")
![Allen Ginsberg: The Interview, <strong> ➡ 1972 ⬅ </strong> [Republished by unpopular demand]](https://americandigest.org/wp/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/ginsbergnirvana-150x150.jpg "Allen Ginsberg: The Interview, <strong> ➡ 1972 ⬅ </strong> [Republished by unpopular demand]")
Stone-cutters fighting time with marble, you foredefeated
Comments on this entry are closed.
Saw a realitive close up of that punk awhile back and he looked diseased, syphilitic and drawn.
BTW, I heard pappy Bush voted for the punks wife. I’d like to think it was a lie.
On this week’s episode of “Bill’s-A-Poppin”: Physiognomy Is Real, or You Can Judge A Book By It’s Cover.
Jeez ya old goatse, xyz.
And if you’re dumb enough to be ogling Noo Yawk sidewalk wildlife both carrying their whelps, then you deserve everything bad that has ever happened or will happen in every one of your useless lives. Those two vampires would suck you to a lifeless husk in a ny minute.
Are Billy’s pants unzipped?
Almost. Our. First. Hubby.
Blew that image up about 2x. Still very good quality. The open fly looks photoshopped to me, and not very good shopping at that. Sorry if I rained on this picnic.
I would believe almost any sexual perversion of Clinton, but this photo is odd and does not convince me.
I’ve seen a lot of comments about Clinton going to some island with lots of young kids. Most articles state or imply strongly that the purpose of the underage people there are for sex purposes.
There’s a different possibility, though.
Maybe they’re going to pedo island not (just) for the sex, but for blood.
I remember reading articles, via Instapundit, about medical testing in rodents that blood from young mice transfused to old mice had a sort of “fountain of youth” result.
I found this creepy article https://www.inverse.com/article/29604-parabiosis-peter-thiel-blood
which was really creepy. A pull quote: “In 1924, the physician and Bolshevik Alexander Bogdanov began young-blood transfusions, and a fellow-revolutionary wrote that he ‘seems to have become seven, no, ten years younger.’ Then Bogdanov injected himself with blood from a student who had both malaria and tuberculosis, and died.”
Fun article.
Photoshopped or not, it’s still funny.
Where’s the Secret Service when you need them, he could have been raped.
Much as I loathe and detest Blow Job Bill, that photo doesn’t show his open fly.
It’s his dark glasses. I used to carry mine hooked into my belt, and that’s how it looked.
I reckon OldFert has a really great point about blood transfusions on Pedo Island; I can see BJ going there for underage sex, that fits his M.O. right down to the ground. But it never seemed to fit Hitlery, who is power-mad & money-mad, but sex with kids just didn’t seem to be something she’d be interested in. Besides, she’s got Huma whenever she needs servicing.
But drinking or injecting children’s blood- well, that fits the old witch to a “T!” I hope she catches something really dreadful, that leads to a slow, miserable & painful death for her, if this surmise is true. (Or even if it isn’t, considering how much harm she’s caused to so many people.)
[My apologies if this post appears more than once; my first two efforts vanished without trace, so this is #3, using a different browser.]
Notes on Comments: Every so often the spam/troll filter selects a perfectly OK comment and holds it in moderation with no notice given (sorry about that. It’s the way this theme is shaped.).
In general I will look through comments from the edit board and approve those mistakenly held for some reason by the filter. I’ll then approve them manually.
Sorry about this but it seems to be how this leopard is spotted.
I beg to differ with BillH and Eskyman.
First bit of evidence. The Grifter’s left hand is in his pocket. His jeans are tight at the waist cuz his stomach is bulging. Tight enough that when he stuck his hand in his pocket, you can see the diagonaling fold coming down from the inside top corner of the pocket that pulls the zipper flap away from it’s normal position. By the folds of the leg, he’s wearing normal denim, not that lycra stretchy stuff that the NY man-eaters and soibois wear. So when he stuck his hand in his pocket, the space for it took the path of least resistance.
Second bit of evidence. You can see the stitch line coming down the outside of the zipper flap, the stitch line that holds the zipper to the flap. You can see the discoloring/fading following the stitch line. I got well-worn jeans like that.
Nah, no photoshop, the old goatse lost his train of thought when he was trying to get the last dribble out. Now mind I’m not saying that’s not never happened to me, but I get to claim that I was in a godawful hurry to get to work or thinking about work or something like that, and I was trying to get outta the house or outta the loo as fast as I could. The Grifter got’s no such excuse. He’s got nothing to do all day ‘cept chase young trim.
Amazing he can stand on a public street without someone coming up and bitch-slapping the commie snot out of him.