Part 2 🤣 pic.twitter.com/U2yZMVuBO3
— Greg (@monkeyboy4334) August 18, 2020
WHEN in the course of human Events, it becomes necessary….
Welcome to the New American Digest: 2003-2020
Gerard Van der Leun
Lay down these words
Before your mind like rocks.
placed solid, by hands
In choice of place, set
Before the body of the mind
in space and time:
Solidity of bark, leaf, or wall
riprap of things:
Cobble of milky way.
straying planets,
These poems, people,
lost ponies with
Dragging saddles –
and rocky sure-foot trails.
The worlds like an endless
four-dimensional
Game of Go.
ants and pebbles
In the thin loam, each rock a word
a creek-washed stone
Granite: ingrained
with torment of fire and weight
Crystal and sediment linked hot
all change, in thoughts,
As well as things.
Gary Snyder
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.
— BY THEODORE ROETHKE
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.
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
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
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Chelcie Lynn
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ifM6UN8JSbs
Lord help me, I even watched part 2, as though I was powerless to stop myself from clicking. What a crazy crazy world we live in.
They have the same accent as my neighbors.
I’m looking for Rodney, too.
I keep checking my drawers but, heck, little or no Rodney to speak of.
Now, when I was 17, Rodney hung with me big and bold. An outspoken lad, you might say.
Now? A mere fingerling potato of his former sPudly self. (Get the clever pun on sTudly? Me neither.)
I tried Viagra. Rod (I call him Rod.) roused himself for a minute or two, winked at me with one eye, as if to say, “Welp, I guess that’s it, kid. We had a good run,” coughed, as cigar smokers will, rolled over and went back to sleep.
I once called him Johnson. Chipes! Couldn’t get him to stuff a sock, or Q tip, in it. On and on, if you catch my drift.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qi4sOv0WKyY 2.22
Stay away from obese women
I can’t believe I watched both #1 and #2 . . . God help us. And God help Rodney.
This is something straight out of Flannery O’Connor’s Southern Gothic stories. Reminds me of our sewer cleaner guy, who could be incredibly violent with his strict sense of justice, and always treated me with profound, almost superstitious respect. Church was completely foreign to him. He had occasion to clean the sewers at our church and decided at one point to step into the sanctuary. Later he said, “Oh, I loved your church! It is dark and cool and quiet and smells nice. Just like my favorite bar!” He was dead serious.
Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Run Rodney
Run like the diarrhea flying violently out of my dohincter
Exhibit #1 in Rodney’s trial to prove self defense.
It has occurred to me that social media is like a truth serum. People, especially low IQ people, remove the facade and become their selves. I say, thank you for that. It is a wonderful thing when a person revels who they are especially before you become involved with them.
This woman is a genius. This is comedy gold. Lighten up. Its a joke..
Laughing my ass off.
I watched around a minute and all I have to say is
When they’re done with Rodney, send these two to Portland. Antifa won’t stand a chance.
Thinking that very thing Harry, Hey Chubarina, I saw Rodney outside the Federal Courthouse in Portland. He’s one of those guys in the black mask and helmet. I don’t know which one. Light them all up.
Chelcie Lynn doing Trailer Trash Tammie? Had me goin’ there for a minute. She’s good. Funny!
Po’ass ole Rotney, he fiddlin’ da get a asswhooping, I mean.