Mitch McConnell: Nancy Pelosi Handled Impeachment Like ‘A Happy Bill Signing’
The full story of the impeachment trial in pictures. #ImpeachmentTrilogy pic.twitter.com/DrBJTtvPKV
— Scott Adams (@ScottAdamsSays) January 16, 2020
Mitch McConnell: Nancy Pelosi Handled Impeachment Like ‘A Happy Bill Signing’
The full story of the impeachment trial in pictures. #ImpeachmentTrilogy pic.twitter.com/DrBJTtvPKV
— Scott Adams (@ScottAdamsSays) January 16, 2020
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In Memory Of W.B. Yeats
Intellectual disgrace
Stares from every human face,
And the seas of pity lie
Locked and frozen in each eye.
Follow, poet, follow right
To the bottom of the night,
With your unconstraining voice
Still persuade us to rejoice.
With the farming of a verse
Make a vineyard of the curse,
Sing of human unsuccess
In a rapture of distress.
In the deserts of the heart
Let the healing fountains start,
In the prison of his days
Teach the free man how to praise.
– – WH Auden
from “1054 AD”
Sometimes it seems I had a dream, and, as a dreamer woke immersed in mineral baths closed within a cool, dark chamber fed by streams flowing in from the center of nowhere.
Hanging from the granite ceiling a kerosene lantern cast shards of light through the pale steam rising from the surface of the pools.
Ripples radiated outwards from the edges of my body and tapping faintly on the rock revealed the edges of the chamber.
Outside I could hear the wind slide across the spine of the mountains, speaking in a language that I remembered but could no longer understand.
Steam filled my nostrils and heat penetrated my bones until, after a time, I had no body, only a sense of silence and distance and calm.
As if I had just woken from all water into dream.
— Tassajara Zen Mountain Center, 1973
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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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Sourdough Mountain Lookout
Down valley a smoke haze
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Pitch glows on the fir-cones
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I cannot remember things I once read
A few friends, but they are in cities.
Drinking cold snow-water from a tin cup
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BY GARY SNYDER
Chimes of Freedom
Starry-eyed an’ laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time an’ we watched with one last look
Spellbound an’ swallowed ’til the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
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An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
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Byzantium
That is no country for old men. The young
In one another’s arms, birds in the trees
—Those dying generations—at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.
O sages standing in God’s holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.
Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.
– – W. B. Yeats, 1865 – 1939
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To the Stonecutters
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
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from “1054 AD”
Sometimes it seems I had a dream, and, as a dreamer woke immersed in mineral baths closed within a cool, dark chamber fed by streams flowing in from the center of nowhere.
Hanging from the granite ceiling a kerosene lantern cast shards of light through the pale steam rising from the surface of the pools.
Ripples radiated outwards from the edges of my body and tapping faintly on the rock revealed the edges of the chamber.
Outside I could hear the wind slide across the spine of the mountains, speaking in a language that I remembered but could no longer understand.
Steam filled my nostrils and heat penetrated my bones until, after a time, I had no body, only a sense of silence and distance and calm.
As if I had just woken from all water into dream.
— Tassajara Zen Mountain Center, 1973
Comments on this entry are closed.
Quoting one of your recent vids, what great fuckery this is!
Wait till we have just Democracy; a capital D good and hard. The rule of a million kings. George Orwell almost got there: this is logarithmically worse. These are the ones who want your electoral votes obliterated. They want to override constitutional truths with a simple majority vote (no cheating…)
My skin is crawling.
I know what you mean, Casey. That caldera that Ghostsniper was talking about is starting to sound like a good option.
JWM
Casey,
Logarithmically or exponentially?
I remember well that dripping drek with her giant gavel and her trained negro marching in to deliver the giant FU to America that was obamacare. She delights in shoving her contempt for America straight into our faces. I hope she meets the fate she deserves.
JWM
Applying a signature to a legal document with multiple pens as shown in the vid is not legal.
Why?
It’s not a signature, and any 4th grader that has endured penmanship class (Do they do that any more? They did when I was in 4th grade.) knows it. Next time you sign a legal document, like say, on a real estate bank loan, stop in the middle of the sig and use another pen and see what happens. How do I know this? While signing a real estate contract I had a pen start to skip and fade. My attorney drew a line through my sig and initialed it, then I had to sign it again with another pen underneath it. Then his secretary notarized it. There used to be a reason for laws, but today, I’m not so sure. I do know one thing, there are way, way, way too many laws now. They could cancel at least 99% of all the laws and it wouldn’t effect me, nor most other people, one iota.
Oh, I don’t doubt you at all, Ghost. Back in the days of the mortgage armageddon, I did some work for Wells Fargo cleaning up mortgage docs that were less than perfectly stellar. Hah, little did we know then, that the chain of ownership on so many of them was not just incomplete, it was fraudulent. I think it was in your neck of the woods that some judge finally threw up his hands and declared a bunch of mortgages to be legally unenforceable, and awarded a bunch of homeowners their deeds, free and clear.
But this horse is ex-barn, long ago and far away. I think it was Lyndon Johnson that started the 40-pens-to-sign-a-bill routine. Mind you, it’s the first time I’ve seen the speaker do it. I’ve never even seen a house speaker sign anything but the chit for his meal in the dining room.
Join in this if you care to:
Prayer for President Donald Trump in the days of this false and malicious impeachment
“No weapon that is formed against him shall prosper.
Every tongue that rises against him in judgment he shall condemn.
This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord.”
“Love prepares a table before him
in the presence of his enemies.
Love anoints his head with oil.
His cup runs over.
Truly, goodness and mercy shall trace his path
all the days of his life.”
Isaiah 54 and Psalm 23
BC
Thanks, Kansas. Right.
Casey,
Sorry, I was not trying to correct you. Now I look like an ass. Respectfully sir!
dilys,
I pray for our President every day. King David was far more imperfect than Orange Man, but both have been called upon and been blessed by Him.
Gordon,
The company I work for has very strict rules for any hand written additions to a working traveler. Black ink, print, single strike through on items requiring correction with properly accompanied date and initial. Gubmint contractor audits would frown on anything that could be interpreted as falsification.