If there is no difference, said B, a friend of K's, at Thursday Night Pints, if there is no difference between the Democrats and Republicans on Police State policy or bankster policy, even if I know I am fed social issues to keep me troughed, isn't thwarting crackers a cynical x cynical reasonable position? I paraphrase, but I hear some version of the question in my head constantly. Yes I'm yelling at you but I'm yelling mostly at me. I quickly gave my third generation Ellis Island disillusionment Mr Ed O! Wilbur story, successive fathers leaving children a better world more left of the world they inherited, so successful was the less-shittyism of the Left once upon a time. I use that as justification for my apostasies and proof of my still deep rubity. L gave her confession, she's twenty years older than me, the ripples of apostasy that radiate past the younger to older that I used to talk about capsized her goat (yes goat) after mine but her capsizing hurt her more than mine me. Your uterus is a negotiable prop, L said to B. Three of the flat-screens were showing the convention. We stared as the Foofucking Fuckingfighters came on stage. Fine metaphors abound, said L, whose anger I envy, who will not need buy a ridiculously prized Scotch at TNPs until the second Thursday after POTUS 12.
- A bet on transcendence favors the house.
- Boo god? I say boo your imaginary friend Jesus too.
- B, who lives in a swing state on the wrong side of the Potomac, said, well, I'm going to hold my nose and vote against Romney, I hope you don't think that makes me evil. Jesus Christ, said D, who got up to buy a round.
- Unity without unions.
- I'm told the crowd at DNC broke into USA! USA! USA! Awesome.
- Proudest achievement.
- UPDATE! Ask the Democrats - Is Romney Ready for the Kill List?
- Lacking the same delusional magic as 2008.
- Not the lesser evil, the more effective evil.
- Hello FBI! Someone found me googling a photo of West Street in Annapolis, found the post of the night we saw Lampchop at Ram's Head few months ago (hence the song), good swerve, Gumshoe.
- Roscoe!
- Shit in the Monocacy!
- Take it from the Chevy Chase Club's property.
- Sonny Rollins is eighty-two today. Hence the Hamster Signal.
- Josipovici (for those of you who do) on Kafka (for those of you who do).
- Bishop's Geography.
- Get your submissions in.
- Fuck You Poem #45.
- Luckily, the sound was off the flat-screens as the Foofucking Fuckingfighters farted their shit, plus I only looked once (for fear of seeing more): it might have just been a quick highlight shot. If it was live and you sat through it what the fuck is wrong with you?
- Three hours of Cage.
- Why you are so soft?
TO THE QUARRY AND BACK
Katia Kapovich
White hail pelting the frozen bog,
I’m stuck in the first line of January,
following my host’s dog
on his walk through the stone century,
around the quarry, slices of marble and mud,
past a herd of miners exhaling smoke,
past a barn smelling of merde,
and back to where I’m stuck and broke.
The fucking dog barks at the night,
mad at the stars all his life and then again.
I rethink kicking him out,
but being cool, I let him in.
