Based pic.twitter.com/m3NYUx92iG
— Devlet Adamı İmamoğlu (@rte_imamoglu) October 18, 2021
Noted In Passing: Elon Musk’s Daily Message
Next post: Noted in Passing: Signing Off, Washington State
Previous post: Regarding My “Walk-On Part in the War”
WHEN in the course of human Events, it becomes necessary….
Welcome to the New American Digest: 2003-2020
Gerard Van der Leun
Through the wild cathedral evening the rain unraveled tales
For the disrobed faceless forms of no position
Tolling for the tongues with no place to bring their thoughts
All down in taken-for-granted situations
Tolling for the deaf an’ blind, tolling for the mute
Tolling for the mistreated, mateless mother, the mistitled prostitute
For the misdemeanor outlaw, chased an’ cheated by pursuit
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
Even though a cloud’s white curtain in a far-off corner flashed
An’ 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
An’ for each unharmful, gentle soul misplaced inside a jail
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
— Bob Dylan
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 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
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.
Comments on this entry are closed.
The version of “Target-Audience/Actual-Audience” I saw displayed the *My Little Pony* logo, with a preteen girl on the left, and a fat neckbeard male on the right.
Skorpion, you are an SOB. Now how the devil do I get the image out of my head of “a fat neckbeard male” panting over the My Little Pony logo? Maybe vodka will help.
Couldn’t hurt, in fact make it a triple, and pour me one too.
Ya know, I don’t get the neck beard thing.
I’ve had full facial hair since 1978 when I got out of the army but I still shave now and then.
My neck.
I can’t stand hair on my neck and after about 2 weeks growth it itches something fierce and I have to scrape it off. Other normal doods with facial hair have told me the same thing. So I don’t know how these neck beard idiots even do that. One more thing. Neck hair is just plain nasty and looks like shitski. Seems so many younger people now go out of their way to look foul, and if they are born retarded looking they try even harder to look even more retarded.
I’m on my third.
Being half Native American—that’s ‘Mexican’ in Gringo lingo—I didn’t begin to shave until I was in my 20s. Even when working all around the globe I could get away with shaving only every third day. Like Arafat.
Nowadays, being retired for two years, I shave when the mood hits me. I have not cut my hair in three years. With sunglasses and a pistol at my side—it is always at my side—I look like what I am: “a crazy old long haired guy with a gun.”
People avoid me. I wonder why?
Mike, you never heard of the “Bronies?”
Google at your risk.
JWM
I took the risk. May God have mercy. Just what the Hell are those things?
Some years ago I was camping at Roman Nose State Park some 60 miles from Oklahoma City. I set up camp, and waited for the girlfriend. After she arrived we drove a mile to the main ranger station to register our campsite. That station had a large ballroom type room. It was filled with weirdoes. There was some sort of convention going on, something called “Comic-Con”. Grown men and women—no, males and females—were all decked out like comic book characters. What a scene! I was especially unnerved by the males with costumes that had tails. The girl and I booked it back to our camp and poured ourselves some Maker’s Mark.
Some time later right before sunset we saw a forlorn character walking on the road to the ballroom. He was dressed like a cat—whiskers, fur, tail and all. He asked up for a ride up the road. He didn’t want to be late for some judging contest. We said sure, and the girl drove and I climbed into the rear seat right behind the “cat”. He was a class ‘A’ weird guy. As she drove I got out my Smith & Wesson .38 revolver and pointed in at the back of the seat where he was sitting. All went well, but Mr. Meow had no idea how close he had come to Eternity if he had tried something—anything—oddball.
I hadn’t heard of Bronies so followed jwm’s search.
Nope, not vodka nor Irish could mindwash that, think I need to pick up a jug of 190 proof Everclear.
…now yer drinkin’
A fine idea. I drink it when in the wilds of Arkansas.
Yep, everclear only way to go on that one..
Geez Mike I can just imagine the smirking backseat glances from the GF.
She knew. She was comforted therefore—and was smiling. Or was it smirking?
That is the reason I had the freak get into the front seat. So that I would have a clean shot if need be. The girlfriend expected me to protect her. I obliged. Of what other use are men?
“Progressives” do not at all hate capitalism. They just hate capitalism for you. For you will be forced to exist under socialism. Not them. Hell no!
They are the same about “gun control”. They are not at all against guns. They are just against guns for you. Why do you think they have been loading up every federal agency with tens of thousands of guns and millions of rounds of ammunition? Easy answer: They are going to use them alright. Against you.
They’ll be in for a surprise.
They can turn that switch on but they don’t get to turn it off.
No they don’t. We’ll turn it off when everything is said and done.
My wife, Lucretia de Sade de Boyle, sports a heinous neck beard. One day I’m gonna set it on fire.
Lance: Have you seen the Tod Browning movie “Freaks” (1932)? A entirely new world opens up after viewing it. They walk among us.
You can see it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pYaCbMCPlzA
I’m downloading it right now, will view it later.
Read the entire history of that film. Bizarre hardly cuts it. Read about the lost 30 minutes that were cut out and have disappeared.
I showed it every year to my 8th graders. They were humbled therefore.
My God, what a world.
Bronies,
Sweet Jebus!!! Those freaks are a half step away from full blow fruit loops and pedophilia. I was warned.
Gird your loins and open up the Costco size Maker’s Mark, because there are even more examples of disturbing millennial weirdness out there. Look up trans-specieism. There are people who believe they are actually an animal. They wear tails and ears, sometimes snouts. Our youngest shared that on her college campus there was a girl who identified as a fox. She wore fox ears and a tail, bit into food like a fox (never used utensils), and yipped when happy. The fox girl had a fox boyfriend and they would furtively prance around campus. From time to time human “scat” would be found under benches on the small campus. I was also told about the yearly topless spaghetti charity dinner held by the campus lesbian social club (invitation only). At our daughter’s small wedding this past weekend, there were two young men awkwardly waltzing together to the folk band that was playing, just two feet from us. At the end of the song, they very formally thanked each other for the courtesy of the dance, like some dystopian version of a Jane Austen novel. As we glanced to another area, we saw a group in a circle doing high kicks and some weird variation of the chicken dance. Several had various shades of hair dye-cardinal red, plum purple, indigo, yellow, and turquoise blue and there were at least two lesbians and a tranny. Of course there were many piercings, tats, and women with partially shaved heads. That being said, they were almost all extremely nice people to talk with and everyone was having a good time at the alcohol-free, mostly vegan brunch reception. Lots of laughter. Sadly, the fox wasn’t invited, since she wasn’t a friend, only a classmate. These good friends of our daughter and SIL are fairly typical of today’s 20 somethings. It’s a brave new world out there my fellow old foggies!
Annie: I had to read your comment twice to make sure I got it all. I want to say “unbelievable” but I know it is all too believable. I conclude that: At 68, I was born too late; or that I should have been born in Republican Rome and served in the armies of Scipio. This “modern” world—actually such things as you described are as old as Babylon—grates upon me like a well-earned hangover. When will it end?
Short answer: never, but it will get worse. What’s to stop it? It will take the cleansing fire of war either foreign or domestic to wash such things away. Remember how Weimar ended.