Blog 2017

Limerick 67




D’une façon--la guerre?-- décidé

C’est le coeur du complicité--

Et b’en pas parfait

je fais ce q’ je fait--

Tout pour défendre la liberté

Limerick 66




The bots and blank trolls tear asunder--

Through Distortion’s Pillage they plunder--

Like Nazi’s of yore

they hope for a score

to ruin America’s Splendor


The Seven Holy Words: A Flash Play by Mortal Man


The Seven Holy Words: A Flash Play by Mortal Man


The Performers enter the stage of alabaster pillars surrounded by a backdrop of green mounds barely seen in some obscured distance.  They stand before a crèche in a scene encircled by the pillars, and onto which has been dumped a cache of silver and gold coins littered around the pile of straw that fills a crib in which sits a white, rather phallic mini-monument.  Surrounding the crib are donkey ears and elephant tusks.


Trump: I need a Tax Deal...just a Deal...I gotta have a deal!


Pence: I'll get it for you if you give me 7 words.  Deal or no Deal?


Trump: Deal!  Is there a curtain?


Pence: Just a number, Sir.  Seven.  Seven is a sacred number.


Trump: Deal!


Pence: Seven is our Heaven.  Seven.  Six and a Day of Rest.  Straight from the Bible, Sir.


Trump: Deal!


Pence: Seven words, then.  Removed.  Out of CDC.


Trump: What is that?  Columbia…District…Columbia….


Pence: It’s Centers for Disease Control, Sir.


Trump: To Hell with that!  Deal!  Which curtain?


Pence: No curtain, Sir.  Just a great, vast veil.


Trump: A Veil Deal?  I like it!


Pence: Translucent, but Divisive, Sir.


Trump: Oh, Deal, Deal, Deal!!!!  Give ’em to me!


Pence: Vulnerable,


Trump: We are Mighty!


Pence: Entitlement,


Trump: Lazy Morons, Get to Work!


Pence: Diversity,


Trump: Aryan!


Pence: Transgender,


Trump: Men are Men!  Women are Objects!


Pence: Fetus,


Trump: What?  Oh.  Right.  Partial.  It’s Human, then?


Pence: We are, Sir.


Trump: Yes, we are!


Pence: Evidence-based and Science Based. 


Trump: We have evolved beyond!


Pence: Yes, indeed, Sir.  We have.


Trump: New Beginnings!


Pence: Feels like Old Times, Sir.


Trump: Happy Days Are Here Again!


Pence: Indeed, they are Sir.  Indeed.  They are.




(Squealing; Exit Both, Stage Right.  A Russian Troll appears and bags all the coins, removes the monument from the crib and puts it in a crossover bag before exiting center front, parading past the Audience.  The pillars tumble.  Only the crib remains, filled with straw.)



Dear Democrats: A Feminist's Defense of Al Franken


Dear Democrats: A Feminist’s Defense of Al Franken


Dear Democrats,


I think you are done for.  I think you have forgotten all about McCarthyism, and you have evolved into a silent membrane that won’t discern the strange perversions twisted up in this new form of Crucible to which you have succumbed by strategy-of-sacrifice and a morality that is blind to all possibilities worth noting, including the possibility that trolls are everywhere, and the reality that, yes, indeed, women can actually lie and utterly usurp the purpose of (say, a movement’s) original intent for ill-got gain.


In this worst of all worlds, when a frenzy is whipped up and there is no one standing up and taking note, this is not just a hashtag me too movement; this is also an ongoing coup.  This is a hacking away at the Democratic party from all angles and the Party is so afraid to anger young millennials it so desperately wants for 2020 that it won’t even consider holding its horses long enough to lead these millennials with a good dose of Congressional Hag Wisdom that says: We get it, but let’s not burn all our bridges while we’re standing on them. 


When “moral high ground” puritanism mingles with feminist insistence without dissecting beyond theory to underscore dark web machinations, well, we've got big trouble.


Getting rid of Al Franken as an “ethical” strategy will bite the Party back in time, and that’s a bet Bannon wagered on long ago, and so, Dear Democrats, you have just set yourselves up to lose not just 2018 but 2020 as well.


Ethics would have involved standing up for Franken and letting the truth be measured by the Senate Ethics Committee.  This point should not be ironic!  Instead, you have let that train-of-change become a runaway wreck by allowing critical thinking to be replaced by opinion and lack-of-patience.


The saddest fact is, when Ethics becomes mere utility for Political Strategy then Ethics itself is already quite dead. 





Reading: October 28 7:30 PM

From the Ruins of the Little White House

Radio Leigh: Proposal for Charlottesville, Part 2, with Flash Mob Suggestions

 ...  And if we want to keep the metaphorical walls of our country clear of the new ghosts now tempting to charge them with yet more horror, we might consider how we arrange ourselves around the old ones.    


Page 13 forward, in HOME FRONT

Radio Leigh: Proposal for Charlottesville

July 30, 2017


July 30, 2017


Uffda!  And I’m not even Scandinavian!  I spent the entire day outside working the yard.  I had to hoist up tomatoes that outgrew even the climbing fence I built for them.  Lawn cutting…and I decided to plow through some of my grass I’d let go to meadow.  Lawnmower didn’t like that.  Sour burp.  Could be it’s just clogged, but it is old and I’ve asked much of it, so if it’s shot I’ll have to replace it.  Not too happy about that.  Probably, the engine got too hot, so the circuit breaker popped.  I’ll let it cool, clean it up well, and hope to start again with it another day.


The corn field has a fence now, and I put up some bamboo fencing back where I have raspberries to allow a bit more privacy between the bushes and a neighbor’s fence and yard.  I had to clean that whole area out of overgrowth.  I wish I had gotten non-suckering raspberries.  I moved the wood pile, too.  It had been laid out wrong and wasn’t as protected from the elements as it should have been, so I finally got around to getting the wood put away into the shed where it will dry out well.  It was a day of getting ready.  Company will come and stay for a couple weeks.  Here’s a poem for that from Without, Haiku:


knock at the door—

chimes ring from the tree limb—

many faces among leaves




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