WHEN in the course of human Events, it becomes necessary….
![Ann Barnhardt: This question of homosexuals in art [BUMPED AND UPDATED with commentary from Ann Barnhardt]](https://americandigest.org/wp/wp-content/uploads/2018/06/aaaagaynotgay.jpg "Ann Barnhardt: This question of homosexuals in art [BUMPED AND UPDATED with commentary from Ann Barnhardt]")
Welcome to the New American Digest: 2003-2020
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.
Gerard Van der Leun
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
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Savvy lady. Cute too.
That guy probably walked out of the room after that exchange touching his hiney gingerly, repeating “ow ow ow”.
…..but wait!
Obama said his was the most transparent administration ever.
She’s a bare knuckle brawler and knocked that cuck journalist right the fuk out.
Not that it’s going to change anything, liars got to lie, reporters got to report, -but I’m repeating myself, she’s smart, articulate, and a credit to the administration and our nation!
Smokin’ predator. I will enjoy watching her destroy those fools in the near future.
Kayleigh just unmasked (with panache) a smug little prick.
Mean Girls Alert: Meghan McCain took issue with Kayleigh’s quite nice appearance. In a tweet (now deleted), Miz McC lamented how she,herself,is forced to endure the lack of hair and makeup artists due to WooFlu. Here she is,one of the stars of the hit show “TheView”, heroically doing without hair bleach and face paint.
She actually called it a “hit” show.
LOLGF
Kayleigh is a smart lady. Notice how she torches the idiot without reading from notes. This woman is completely prepared to face these slime ball jerks. Wearing a cross is a nice touch. She is fun to watch.
Right on Kayleigh, you were great and please keep it up.
Looks like Kayleigh was prepared again. I hope the White House reporters are getting prepared – to have their asses handed to them.