THEM: "That's IMPOSSIBLE"
AMERICANS: "Hold my beer"
h/t @ScottAdamsSays pic.twitter.com/RqT1oKt51S
— Jack Murphy šŗšø āļø (@jackmurphylive) September 23, 2020
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Even though a cloudās white curtain in a far-off corner flashed
Anā the hypnotic splattered mist was slowly lifting
Electric light still struck like arrows, fired but for the ones
Condemned to drift or else be kept from drifting
Tolling for the searching ones, on their speechless, seeking trail
For the lonesome-hearted lovers with too personal a tale
Anā for each unharmful, gentle soul misplaced inside a jail
Anā we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
Starry-eyed anā laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time anā we watched with one last look
Spellbound anā swallowed ātil the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones anā worse
Anā for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
Anā we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
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
Reason will not decide at last; the sword will decide.
The sword: an obsolete instrument of bronze or steel,
formerly used to kill men, but here
In the sense of a symbol. The sword: that is: the storms
and counter-storms of general destruction; killing
of men,
Destruction of all goods and materials; massacre, more or
less intentional, of children and women;
Destruction poured down from wings, the air made accomplice,
the innocent air
Perverted into assassin and poisoner.
The sword: that is: treachery and cowardice, incredible
baseness, incredible courage, loyalties, insanities.
The sword: weeping and despair, mass-enslavement,
mass-torture, frustration of all hopes
That starred man’s forehead. Tyranny for freedom, horror for
happiness, famine for bread, carrion for children.
Reason will not decide at last, the sword will decide.
His soul stretched tight across the skies
That fade behind a city block,
Or trampled by insistent feet
At four and five and six oāclock;
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
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 oneās 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 tideās 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.
Even though a cloudās white curtain in a far-off corner flashed
Anā the hypnotic splattered mist was slowly lifting
Electric light still struck like arrows, fired but for the ones
Condemned to drift or else be kept from drifting
Tolling for the searching ones, on their speechless, seeking trail
For the lonesome-hearted lovers with too personal a tale
Anā for each unharmful, gentle soul misplaced inside a jail
Anā we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
Starry-eyed anā laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time anā we watched with one last look
Spellbound anā swallowed ātil the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones anā worse
Anā for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
Anā we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
Gerard Van der Leun
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That the great Republic of the United States of America will still be here after November?
It just might be possible.
Look, the dood wrote a book, “The Art of the Deal”.
Not, “Deal”.
But, “The Art of the”.
Anybody can make a deal with anybody else as long as the everybody else is an idiot.
Most people ain’t idiots and are wary.
That’s where “The Art” part comes in.
Most people don’t know much about “The Art”.
Most people are wary of “Deals” because they are inexperienced or have been burned by shysters.
The “Art” part of the “Deal” is where all participants believe they have won.
That means rethinking the meaning of the word “compromise”.
It doesn’t mean losing.
It means winning but on adjusted terms.
In the past Gerard made a post titles “Just Enough” and that’s what’s being said here.
You don’t get everything you want out of any given deal, but just enough, to make it your worthwhile.
It’s up to you what just enough means.
Above, all the people Trump made deals with believed they got just enough.
Communists don’t want just enough, they want it all, and you don’t matter.
As it plays out, they will get nothing.
Or, something they hadn’t planned for.
After being lectured for 8 long years by Jug Ears Barack the Magic Negro how bad America was, how unjust America was, how we as Americans did not deserve a high standard of living or jobs. America’s days of greatness were over and we had better get used to it. Mr. I,Me,My told us in every single lecture. I felt hate from that president. Hate down to the core of my being. Then comes candidate Trump who tells us how much he loves us. How America has been cheated by the demorats and he wants us to be great again because he knows America is the most special place in the world. His speeches are always about Americans and how good people are. You rarely hear I, Me or My in his speeches. This why people flock to a leader who loves his country. President Trump’s actions and words match.
Does anyone know what the backing soundtrack music is from?
The Trump campaign should run this on TV.
I lost the sound in that vid but I’ll nod along with KC. Very good points and I hate that bastard, too. He, like his father I would wager, is beyond any redemption.
If the Globalist Left could back off on the fomenting a race war and flooding us with immigrants we could probably get something done in the US. But then again, that’s the point, isn’t it.
Finally hit me; the music is from X-Men: First Class. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VWffS74aXBU