". . . it is perfectly possible to be living in a
dictatorship and not experience it as such as
long as you are either uninvolved in politics or are a genuine
supporter of the regime. . . .
in a free country, you don't prevent pacifists from getting on
airplanes because you're
trying to prevent terrorists from flying, and you don't refuse entry
into the country to
journalists from friendly nations. Neither do you incarcerate people
for lengthy periods
without trial, let alone torture them. Saddam was a dictator, but many
Iraqis went about
their daily business without encountering any trouble with him and his
government.
Millions of Soviet citizens did the same under the USSR, but that
wasn't a free country,
either. Pretending that nothing is wrong because you don't personally
know any of the
people who are being abused this way does not provide evidence that
the country you live
in is, in fact, free."
Poems are bullshit unless they are broken
like a horse, like a dog kicked in the ribs,
Like your favorite toy that’s missing an arm.
Love can make you feel used.
I want the poem that limps back to me.
Poems should hurt like love,
like ice water on your teeth
like a massage to smooth out a cramped muscle.
Give me the poem that’s like leather.
Give me the poem that smells like gasoline.
I want a poem that is a warning,
a poem that makes me check to see
if I left the shotgun by the door,
a poem that’s a runny nose, a sneeze, a poem
that’s the moment the sky turns green.
"When the village idiot spoils your
traps and upturns your syrup buckets, invite him to
dinner. Fill his belly with venison, rye whisky and butter tarts
until the goose fat glistens
on his chin. Then set him on the porch, afront the bears you
lured to the yard."
~ Gordon Pinsent
"What? Me? No! Look, maple syrup and trapping aren't even
regionally...
I mean, I wouldn't... I don't know why I would ever say such a
thing. I did not say
that. Although, yes, the man should be eaten by bears at his
earliest possible
convenience. Please."
— internet hall of fame (@InternetH0F) June
27, 2024
June 24, 2024
4:05 p.m. CST
June 22, 2024
8:53 a.m. CST
Saturday Morning Blues for
pogge
June 20, 2024
2:43 p.m. CST
The Canadian Way
?? You know, we Canadians are the nicest,
politest people on Earth...??
...things change. however when you threaten our f***ing wild
salmon!!! ??
You get THIS! ????????.
Don't be a ?? be an ?? and say #FckOffFishFarms#FOFF!
Much Love, Bill the proud Canadian ?? pic.twitter.com/jhUcG3CM7a
"There are compensations to getting old. I just
can’t think what they are right now."
- Stephen King
June 15, 2024
8:30 a.m. CST
Saturday morning blues for
pogge.
Remembering on his birthday Riley B.
King??Blues legend B.B. King??the son of sharecroppers, born on
this day in 1925, on a cotton plantation near the city of Itta
Bena, Mississippi. pic.twitter.com/LLvHvYj5CK
"If the bee disappeared off the face of the
Earth, man would only have four years left to live. No more
bees, no more pollination, no more plants, no more animals, no
more man."
I never put much stock in that image of the earth
resting on the backs of four elephants
who are standing on the back of a sea turtle,
who is in turn supported by an infinite regression
of turtles disappearing into a bottomless forever.
I mean how could you get them all to stay still?
Now that we are on the subject,
my substitute picture would have the earth
with its entire population of people and things
resting on the head of Keith Richards,
who is holding a Marlboro in one hand
and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s in the other.
As long as Keith keeps talking about
the influence of the blues on the Rolling Stones,
the earth will continue to spin merrily
and revolve in a timely manner around the sun.
But if he changes the subject or even pauses
too long, it’s pretty much curtains for us all.
Unless, of course, one person somehow survives
being hurtled into the frigidity of outer space;
then we would have a movie on our hands—
but wait, there wouldn’t be any hands
to write the script or make the movie,
and no theatres, either, no buttered popcorn, no giant Pepsi.
Putting that aside, let’s imagine Keith
standing on the other Rolling Stones,
who are standing on the shoulders of Muddy Waters,
and, were it not for that endless stack of turtles,
one on top of the other all the way down,
Muddy Waters would be standing on nothing at all.
Musician and producer Jacob Collier
frequently experiments with audience during his tours. This is
how he turns his entire concert audience into a choir,
signalling at different sections to move up or down a note.pic.twitter.com/U1WK5zM2IB
I have no words…… except to say that
whatever force brought these two wonderful eccentrics together
proves there’s still some silly loveliness in the world ???? pic.twitter.com/4aSXX4tPw7
The Eight 'I'd really rather you
didn'ts' of Pastafarianism
1. I’d Really Rather You Didn’t Act Like A
Sanctimonious Holier-Than-Thou Ass When
Describing My Noodly Goodness. If Some People Don’t Believe In Me,
That’s Okay.
Really, I’m Not That Vain. Besides, This Isn’t About Them So Don’t
Change The Subject.
2. I’d Really Rather You Didn’t Use My Existence As A Means To
Oppress, Subjugate,
Punish, Eviscerate, And/Or, You Know, Be Mean To Others. I Don’t
Require Sacrifices,
And Purity Is For Drinking Water, Not People.
3. I’d Really Rather You Didn’t Judge People For The Way They
Look, Or How They Dress,
Or The Way They Talk, Or, Well, Just Play Nice, Okay? Oh, And Get
This
Through You Thick Heads: Woman=Person, Man=Person. Samey-Samey.
One is Not
Better Than The Other, Unless We’re Talking About Fashion And I’m
Sorry, But I Gave
That To Women And Some Guys Who Know The Difference Between Teal
And
Fuchsia.
4. I’d Really Rather You Didn’t Indulge In Conduct That Offends
Yourself, Or Your
Willing, Consenting Partner Of Legal Age AND Mental Maturity. As
For Anyone Who
Might Object, I Think The Expression Is Go Fuck Yourself, Unless
They Find That
Offensive In Which Case They Can Turn Off The TV For Once And Go
For A Walk For
A Change.
5. I’d Really Rather You Didn’t Challenge The Bigoted, Misogynist,
Hateful Ideas Of
Others On An Empty Stomach. Eat, Then Go After The Bastards.
6. I’d Really Rather You Didn’t Build multi million-Dollar
Churches/Temples/Mosques/
Shrines To My Noodly Goodness When The Money Could Be Better Spent
(Take Your
Pick): A. Ending Poverty B. Curing Diseases C. Living In Peace,
Loving With Passion,
And Lowering The Cost Of Cable. I Might Be A Complex Carbohydrate
Omniscient
Being, But I Enjoy The Simple Things In Life. I Ought To Know. I
AM The Creator.
7. I’d Really Rather You Didn’t Go around Telling People I Talk To
you. You’re Not
That Interesting. Get Over Yourself. And I Told You To Love Your
Fellow Man,
Can’t You Take A Hint?
8. I’d Really Rather You Didn’t Do Unto Others As You Would Have
Them Do Unto
You If You Are Into, Um, Stuff That Uses a lot Of
Leather/Lubrication/Las Vegas. If
The Other Person Is Into It However (Pursuant To #4), Then Have At
It, Take Pictures,
And For The Love Of Mike, Wear A CONDOM! Honestly It’s A Piece Of
Rubber, If I
Didn’t Want It To Feel Good When You Did It I Would Have Added
Spikes, Or
Something.
Betty, if I set out to write this poem
about you
it might turn out instead
to be about me
or any one of
my female relatives
it might turn out to be
about this young native gir
growing up in rural Alberta
in a town with fewer Indians
than ideas about Indians,
in a town just south of the 'Aryan Nations'
it might turn out to be
about Anna Mae Aquash, Donald Marshall or Richard Cardinal,
it might even turn out to be
about our grandmothers,
beasts of burden in the fur trade
skinning, scraping, pounding, packing,
left behind for ‘British Standards of Womanhood,'
left for white-melting-skinned women,
not bits-of-brown women
left here in this wilderness, this colony.
Betty, if I start to write a poem about
you
it might turn out to be
about hunting season instead,
about 'open season' on native women
it might turn out to be
about your face young and hopeful
staring back at me hollow now
from a black and white page
it might be about the 'townsfolk' (gentle
word)
townsfolk who 'believed native girls were easy'
and 'less likely to complain if a sexual proposition led to
violence.'
Betty, if I write this poem.
April 18, 2024
8:12 a.m. CST
April 17, 2024
6:38 p.m. CST
April 16, 2024
12:43 p.m. CST
Elephant
Thanks, Barbie!
April 16, 2024
12:12 p.m. CST
QOTD
"I didn't really have a career. It was more of a
careen."
- Mike Glass
April 15, 2024
8:47 a.m. CST
Steven
I'm not sure what's funnier, the horse's
dramatic 'play dead' routine, or the fact that it answers to the
name Steven! ?? pic.twitter.com/kgch38dK7i
