Portland Oregon. October 17, 2020. 17 days until the election.
![[UPDATED with animal identified]One Spark. Just One. And there will be a massacre in the streets.](https://americandigest.org/wp/wp-content/uploads/2020/08/1tAIGv9e.jpeg "[UPDATED with animal identified]One Spark. Just One. And there will be a massacre in the streets.")
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WHEN in the course of human Events, it becomes necessary….
Welcome to the New American Digest: 2001-2022
After scanning its face again and again,
I began to scale it, picking my holds
With intense caution. About half-way
To the top, I was suddenly brought to
A dead stop, with arms outspread
Clinging close to the face of the rock
Unable to move hand or foot
Either up or down. My doom
Appeared fixed. I MUST fall.
There would be a moment of
Bewilderment, and then,
A lifeless rumble down the cliff
To the glacier below.
My mind seemed to fill with a
Stifling smoke. This terrible eclipse
Lasted only a moment, when life blazed
Forth again with preternatural clearness.
I seemed suddenly to become possessed
Of a new sense. My trembling muscles
Became firm again, every rift and flaw in
The rock was seen as through a microscope,
My limbs moved with a positiveness and precision
With which I seemed to have
Nothing at all to do.
My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of
universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I
reach my hands and play with pebbles of
destiny.
I have been to hell and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvelous rebellion of man at all signs
reading “Keep Off.”
My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive
in the universe.
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I can’t decide if I’m supposed to take note of the “peaceful protestor” being shined by the LEO, or, the lady with the high heel shoes and short skirt, who almost gives an appearance of being a normal human, though if they are both in Portland, OR, at this stage of the game, I’d say there is something seriously wrong with both of them.
America 2020 . . . : The Three Masketeers.
It’s a great picture. It says things about society, police, old vs. young, about being glib and blithe as well as earnest and serious.
If all of our journalistic institutions hadn’t been compromised over the decades, I would have said this picture deserves a Pulitzer. But considering who wins Pulitzers…
Oooh, Auntie. God will get you for that.
“But considering who wins Pulitzers…” Yeah. The thing is, the Pulitzers are decided by a small group of people who get together in someone’s loft and they throw out names of stuff they read and liked. Or, in some cases, stuff they didn’t read, but pretended to have. That’s it.
Nobel peace prizes are awarded by a subcommittee of the Norwegian parliament. That’s about like having a subcommittee of the Minnesota House of Representatives do it. “Oh ya, sure, let’s give it to that black fellow the Americans elected. Everyone says he’s super and has nicely creased pants.”
The rest of the Nobels are done by a more rigorous process in Sweden, which of course means that they’re given by white supremacists.
Very nice gams.
Not a BIPOC among them– whatever happened to diversity and inclusion?
“She’s got legs, she knows how to use them!”
-ZZ top
I was going to offer something deep and insightful about how even in a moment when you might think that a policeman would be completely focused on his job, that we men are hard-wired to appreciate the beauty in the women we see…..
But wait! Did you see the Fire Sale girl?
Whether she being nonchalant or blasé, that’s a nice set of pins. I can only give her a 7.7 because of the coat and mask…
So what? A hooker hurrying off to her next appointment – what’s news ’bout that?