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.
by Shel Silverstein
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
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They called him ‘Tater.
Now that’s funny.
I’ve seen JoJo referred to as the POTATUS.
Yes, seen that too. At least I think I have. Hard to know since the meme drifts are thick on this odd person. Truly the strangest thing to show up on the screen endowed with some sort of purpose or set of instructions from which it cannot flex in mind or body one degree and hence sort of pasted onto the matrix like a bad caulking job on a crack in an essential propaganda pipeline.
That or some kind of edge-crisped scab with a still moist center that one can’t resist picking.
https://uploads.disquscdn.com/images/3b782c7a538845d4426609420f71d65a65c84a8015f51f1a018a79ae068877b7.jpg
1984 should be printed under the title destroying America for dummies.
I’d like to see that big, flabby white ass nailed to the barn door, then flailed to ribbons, and watch that sissy cry and cry and cry. Film at 11. Bring a hanky. You’ll laff til you cry.
The description, “paralyzing stupidity,” is perfect. Mr. Orwell had a gift.
Hmm, hard to believe anybody butTaco Bell would provide seltzer a position. I can see him managing the pre shaped taco shell dispenser! Can’t let him near the deep fryer, this retard would go Bobbing for French fries.