- Motherfucking Obama, that's who.
- Found the dog buried in a folder. Haven't used it at this site, must be at least a couple of years. What a fucking rube I was and am and will be, not there anymore by grace of constant self-scourging, but surely someplace else; I'm the type who poisons asceticism with self.
- The shit that will be flung at you the next ten months.
- Motherfucking Digby liberals.
- Liberal failure.
- The Santorum taint.
- Swallowing their santorum, rooting for Romney.
- Ken Starr says it's OK to vote for a Mormon.
- Jackhole Diehl says kill more Muslims.
- Occupy Bus.
- How Occupy benefits Corporate.
- Dance of the Marionettes.
- Living feminism. Welcome back, JR.
- University of Maryland priorities!
- Yes, I've posted the below Tate poem at least twice before.
- On Ishmael Reed.
- International repository of regrets.
- The Complete Works of Ennio Morricone.
IT HAPPENS LIKE THIS
Jame Tate
I was outside St. Cecelia's Rectory
smoking a cigarette when a goat appeared beside me.
It was mostly black and white, with a little reddish
brown here and there. When I started to walk away,
it followed. I was amused and delighted, but wondered
what the laws were on this kind of thing. There's
a leash law for dogs, but what about goats? People
smiled at me and admired the goat. "It's not my goat,"
I explained. "It's the town's goat. I'm just taking
my turn caring for it." "I didn't know we had a goat,"
one of them said. "I wonder when my turn is." "Soon,"
I said. "Be patient. Your time is coming." The goat
stayed by my side. It stopped when I stopped. It looked
up at me and I stared into its eyes. I felt he knew
everything essential about me. We walked on. A police-
man on his beat looked us over. "That's a mighty
fine goat you got there," he said, stopping to admire.
"It's the town's goat," I said. "His family goes back
three-hundred years with us," I said, "from the beginning."
The officer leaned forward to touch him, then stopped
and looked up at me. "Mind if I pat him?" he asked.
"Touching this goat will change your life," I said.
"It's your decision." He thought real hard for a minute,
and then stood up and said, "What's his name?" "He's
called the Prince of Peace," I said. "God! This town
is like a fairy tale. Everywhere you turn there's mystery
and wonder. And I'm just a child playing cops and robbers
forever. Please forgive me if I cry." "We forgive you,
Officer," I said. "And we understand why you, more than
anybody, should never touch the Prince." The goat and
I walked on. It was getting dark and we were beginning
to wonder where we would spend the night.