NYC Democrats Don’t Hold Back! Line up for your payback. Soon.
![That Was the Whopper Weekend That Was [Illustrated]](https://americandigest.org/wp/wp-content/uploads/2021/05/welcometohell-150x150.jpg "That Was the Whopper Weekend That Was [Illustrated]")
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
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
FSA/8d22000/8d224008d22491a.tif
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
Down valley a smoke haze
Three days heat, after five days rain
Pitch glows on the fir-cones
Across rocks and meadows
Swarms of new flies.
I cannot remember things I once read
A few friends, but they are in cities.
Drinking cold snow-water from a tin cup
Looking down for miles
Through high still air.
BY GARY SNYDER
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
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an’ worse
An’ for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
Van der Leun: The Normblog Bio of Your Host
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
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
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.
I think that if we are totally honest and know our recent history, we can easily conclude that if Paul Ryan had done his job representing the people and not the swamp we would not be where we are today. Paul Ryan did all he could to subvert the agenda designed to Keep America Great. Thus we have this attitude so proudly displayed by the ignorant New York masses.
I knew they’re bat shit crazy but that segment brings it home hard.
With everything going on right now, I can see the value of a diary. Names, dates, what was said, what was done by who to whom, for historical accuracy and accountability. Minitrue shouldn’t have sole say.
These words ring true today to describe those who are fighting so hard to cling to power.
From Cromwell’s time of civil war.
“…
In friendship false, implacable in hate,
Resolved to ruin or to rule the state; 25
To compass this the triple bond he broke,
The pillars of the public safety shook,
And fitted Israel for a foreign yoke;
Then, seized with fear, yet still affecting fame,
Usurped a patriot’s all-atoning name. 30
So easy still it proves in factious times
With public zeal to cancel private crimes.
How safe is treason and how sacred ill,
Where none can sin against the people’s will,
Where crowds can wink and no offence be known, 35
Since in another’s guilt they find their own!
…”
John Dryden-from Absalom and Achitophel
Yes, Joe Krill, Ryan is a pathetic RINO. So glad that jackass is gone. Yes, some people hate Donald Trump more than they love America. Been that way for awhile. Sad.
My heart leaps up when I see Dryden quoted here. Very fine indeed. And still pertinent as well.
Those people who would allow millions to die in exchange for Trump to lose? How about if you asked them, “Would you yourself be willing to die in order for Trump to lose?”
No, of course not! They’d trade a million lives but not their own. Silly hypocrites.
Used the chainsaw to cut 8′ off the skinny end of a power pole, then used the auger to drill a 10″ hole 3′ into the ground. Stood that cut off pole down into the hole, plumbed it then back filled it. Almost ready. Used the long tape to find a spot exactly 100′ away. The top of that pole is exactly 5′ above the ground. I had installed the new reflex sight on the 870 but had not yet zero’d it. Sand blasted the pole with #7 shot, while turning the turrets, from about 20′ away. Then walked to the 100′ mark and loaded 8 slugs in the tube. “Shoulder up gentlemen!” Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom. The top of that pole was ragged. All 8 slugs touched it, in about 15 seconds. “Patriots qualified and ready, Sir!”
This sort of attitude exhibited in the video is learned and nurtured. Nobody thinks this way on their own, except a true sociopath.
We can assign names and associations and groups and companies (ahem…..the networks) that have done this, but where does it stop?
And really, to quote Theoden……”How did it come to this?”