But my daughter will be twenty-seven in 2020. Tell me, should we assume nine more years of Corporate's serbianizing of America? Tell me, what are Corporate's real issues and what idiot-like-me chum am I fed in the run-up to that election? Is everything the same, just worse, progressed inexorably along the teleological trajectory you foresee today? Resistance? Who to what and how?
She'll be thirty-nine in 2032. Tell me.
- I don't see Corporate not fighting to the death, do you?
- Not funny, not clever, not your girlfriend.
- I would give $100 just to imagine pissing off Obamadick, but who? I say this all the fucking time: there's no money to be made demagoguing from the Left?
- And yes, Old-Timers, it has been awhile since I used the "old-girl friend who chained herself to virgin forest trees who used the tug-of-rope argument for obviously far spectrum politics." I caught myself using it in tablet; hence this post's first paragraph.
- UPDATE! BTW, I meant to say that my first reaction to the Norway terrorist attacks was that it was a motherfucking Norwegian cracker/christer who hates Norwegian "socialism," but I'm just a leftwing elitist bigot.
- I tried hard to betray you and the Republicans wouldn't let me.
- I linked to Dear Progressives a couple of days and 172 comments ago.
- Good luck.
- An obamapologist drowning in an inch of water.
- Your motherfucking president.
- Occupy Wall Street?
- Daily doh.
- Elizabeth Warren makes it personal, chooses wrong target.
- Jennifer Rubin really is The Second Shittiest Human on the planet.
- Las Vegas and the simulacrum of desire.
- Marshall McLuhan's centennial was this past Thursday. Fabio played some McLuhan tapes. It's a shame the first thing I think about when hearing the name Marshall McLuhan is that dumbass Woody Allen movie.
- Yes, I do know I'm unworthy, thanks!
- In through the back door.
- Come here.
- Name everything.
- A slight return home.
THE FIRST MARRIAGE
Peter Meinke
imagine the very first marriage a girl
and boy trembling with some inchoate
need for ceremony a desire for witness:
inventing formality like a wheel or a hoe
in a lost language in a clearing too far from here
a prophet or a prophetess intoned to the lovers
who knelt with their hearts cresting
like the unnamed ocean thinking This is true
thinking they will never be alone again
though planets slip their tracks and fish
desert the sea repeating those magic sounds
meaning I do on this stone below
this tree before these friends yes in body
and word my darkdream my sunsong yes I do I do
