- It's true, and they have a home game tonight versus their nemesis, Houston, which beats United usually and thoroughly on crosses and set pieces. With a three game road trip - including to Houston for Houston's first game in their brand new state-of-the-art stadium - all three points tonight would be as sweet as it would be surprising. Waiting to see if seats three, four, and six are filled tonight. That? Would be a sweet as it would be surprising.
- Also too. If you play there let me know. Yes, shoot me.
- Reminder! May will be a motherfucking-free month at BLCKDGRD. L offered me a pint bet I can't go the entire month without typing and publishing here the word motherfucker. I understand that motherfucking Obama will make it incredibly difficult for me, but I've accepted the bet. You can get in on the bet too, in real beer or digital beer. I was offered a second pint bet that I could go the entire month without typing and publishing here any word that contains the consecutive letters f-u-c-k, but I'm not fucking stupid, L. Though I'll buy you a pint anyway.
- On the same day, Fuckface Hiatt gives you Fuckface Luntz and Fuckface Goldberg.
- The fuckface's were there to balance out this Mann/Ornstein piece calling GOP batshit crazy.
- Call me when
- Several signs of the apocalypse.
- What foreign corporations will motherfucking Obama empower to undermine environmental laws near you?
- Motherfucking Obama.
- I'd like to say Hi! to the DHS bot who scrolled through the night. I want to emphasize I made the motherfucking bet with L before the last two days of bottage.
- #STOPDRONEY2012.
- Motherfucking Pelosi. Was but a matter of time.
- The war on women in the Middle East.
- Anti-racism as social sorting.
- All of Blegsylvania is moribund, but Musicville and Litsburg especially.
- Creeley on acid.
- The state of poetry.
ROGUE RUSSETS
R.T. Smith
Surprised by a frill of white flower
where I'd never planted an eye,
I decided to fence it with sticks
and let the renegade live
in undoctored soil where the garden
gave way to volunteer poplars
and acidic white pine. Why not?
After all, away from the tribe,
in clay where beetles drill
and weeds emerge inspired,
it might grow eccentric, proliferate
and thrive.
When autumn air
said disinter, to fill the bin
for winter, I troweled under
and pulled the stem
until a rabble of rough spuds
red as Etruscan urns emerged
as if to prove
that whatever urge drove
the rogue to sow itself and strive
beyond all cultivation
might offer a vital lesson
to any apostate instinct
aspiring to survive.