"Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto,
Mata ah-oo hima de
Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto,
Himitsu wo shiri tai"
"He who learns must suffer and even in our sleep the pain we cannot forget falls drop by drop upon our heart and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God."
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
"Infamous Quote from Hermann Goering,
'Why of course the people don't want war. Why should some poor slob on a farm want to risk his life in a war when the best he can get out of it is to come back to his farm in one piece? Naturally the common people don't want war neither in Russia, nor in England, nor for that matter in Germany. That is understood. But, after all, it is the leaders of the country who determine the policy and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy, or a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship. Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the peacemakers for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same in any country.'"
'Why of course the people don't want war. Why should some poor slob on a farm want to risk his life in a war when the best he can get out of it is to come back to his farm in one piece? Naturally the common people don't want war neither in Russia, nor in England, nor for that matter in Germany. That is understood. But, after all, it is the leaders of the country who determine the policy and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy, or a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship. Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the peacemakers for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same in any country.'"
Sunday, October 17, 2004
Bambino's Curse: Diary of a Red Sox Fan: "Thursday, October 14, 2004
Bring On the Bride
There's no other way to put it: The grave has been dug. The pine box has been inserted 6 feet deep, and the Red Sox are in it on their backs, breathing but unconscious. All that's left is to nail down the cover and start shoveling the dirt.
Oh, of course, of course, one can escape such an ignominious end to the season. One can escape being buried alive. We saw the Bride do it in Kill Bill Vol 2, right?
The only problem is The Red Sox are not doing a very good job impersonating the Bride. Well, I take that back. They are doing a very good job of being the Vol 1 comatose Bride in a hospital bed being 'looked after' by Buck ('Who likes to � '). Will we see the Sox regain consciousness and fight the way the Bride did?
I want to see some swordplay. I want to see the Sox eliminate the Yankees as if they were knee socked, chain swinging Go Go Yubari at the hands of the Bride wielding the Hanzo.
Red Sox, the Yankees are Bill. Cut to the action sequences, OK?
'Those of you lucky enough to have your lives take them with you. However, leave the limbs you've lost. They belong to me now.'
That's what I want to hear. "
Bring On the Bride
There's no other way to put it: The grave has been dug. The pine box has been inserted 6 feet deep, and the Red Sox are in it on their backs, breathing but unconscious. All that's left is to nail down the cover and start shoveling the dirt.
Oh, of course, of course, one can escape such an ignominious end to the season. One can escape being buried alive. We saw the Bride do it in Kill Bill Vol 2, right?
The only problem is The Red Sox are not doing a very good job impersonating the Bride. Well, I take that back. They are doing a very good job of being the Vol 1 comatose Bride in a hospital bed being 'looked after' by Buck ('Who likes to � '). Will we see the Sox regain consciousness and fight the way the Bride did?
I want to see some swordplay. I want to see the Sox eliminate the Yankees as if they were knee socked, chain swinging Go Go Yubari at the hands of the Bride wielding the Hanzo.
Red Sox, the Yankees are Bill. Cut to the action sequences, OK?
'Those of you lucky enough to have your lives take them with you. However, leave the limbs you've lost. They belong to me now.'
That's what I want to hear. "
Thursday, September 23, 2004
Sunday, September 12, 2004
After Years
Today, from a distance, I saw you
walking away, and without a sound
the glittering face of a glacier
slid into the sea. An ancient oak
fell in the Cumberlands, holding only
a handful of leaves, and an old woman
scattering corn to her chickens looked up
for an instant. At the other side
of the galaxy, a star thirty-five times
the size of our own sun exploded
and vanished, leaving a small green spot
on the astronomer's retina
as he stood on the great open dome
of my heart with no one to tell.
Ted Kooser
Today, from a distance, I saw you
walking away, and without a sound
the glittering face of a glacier
slid into the sea. An ancient oak
fell in the Cumberlands, holding only
a handful of leaves, and an old woman
scattering corn to her chickens looked up
for an instant. At the other side
of the galaxy, a star thirty-five times
the size of our own sun exploded
and vanished, leaving a small green spot
on the astronomer's retina
as he stood on the great open dome
of my heart with no one to tell.
Ted Kooser
Thursday, September 02, 2004
This Modern World: "Someday there will be people speaking languages vaguely resembling our own but indecipherable if we could eavesdrop. Their maps will not be our maps. And they will look at our wars over half-forgotten gods the same way you and I look at the struggles between the tribes of Ur, very possibly while killing each other in the name of gods which do not yet exist.
They will dig and puzzle and speak of the Oil Age and how its brevity stunned humankind toward the end.
If we make good choices, perhaps they will remember us fondly for they way we handled the first truly global period in human history, and they will carry our wisdom forward to our children's far descendants.
If we don't, they will more likely make small figurines of oxen and bury them in mud brick dwellings with their infant dead. With luck, maybe someday they'll develop bronze."
They will dig and puzzle and speak of the Oil Age and how its brevity stunned humankind toward the end.
If we make good choices, perhaps they will remember us fondly for they way we handled the first truly global period in human history, and they will carry our wisdom forward to our children's far descendants.
If we don't, they will more likely make small figurines of oxen and bury them in mud brick dwellings with their infant dead. With luck, maybe someday they'll develop bronze."
Friday, August 27, 2004
Manifesto
A press release from PRKA.
By George Saunders
Posted Thursday, Aug. 26, 2004, at 12:59 PM PT
Last Thursday, my organization, People Reluctant To Kill for an Abstraction, orchestrated an overwhelming show of force around the globe.
At precisely 9 in the morning, working with focus and stealth, our entire membership succeeded in simultaneously beheading no one. At 10, Phase II began, during which our entire membership did not force a single man to suck another man's penis. Also, none of us blew himself/herself up in a crowded public place. No civilians were literally turned inside out via our powerful explosives. In addition, at 11, in Phase III, zero (0) planes were flown into buildings.
During Phase IV, just after lunch, we were able to avoid bulldozing a single home. Furthermore, we set, on roads in every city, in every nation in the world, a total of zero (0) roadside bombs which, not being there, did not subsequently explode, killing/maiming a total of nobody. No bombs were dropped, during the lazy afternoon hours, on crowded civilian neighborhoods, from which, it was observed, no post-bomb momentary silences were then heard. These silences were, in all cases, followed by no unimaginable, grief-stricken bellows of rage, and/or frantic imprecations to a deity. No sleeping baby was awakened from an afternoon nap by the sudden collapse and/or bursting into flame of his/her domicile during Phase IV.
In the late afternoon (Phase V), our membership focused on using zero (0) trained dogs to bite/terrorize naked prisoners. In addition, no stun guns, rubber batons, rubber bullets, tear gas, or bullets were used, by our membership, on any individual, anywhere in the world. No one was forced to don a hood. No teeth were pulled in darkened rooms. No drills were used on human flesh, nor were whips or flames. No one was reduced to hysterical tears via a series of blows to the head or body, by us. Our membership, while casting no racial or ethnic aspersions, skillfully continued not to rape, gang-rape, or sexually assault a single person. On the contrary, during this late-afternoon phase, many of our membership flirted happily and even consoled, in a nonsexual way, individuals to whom they were attracted, putting aside their sexual feelings out of a sudden welling of empathy.
As night fell, our membership harbored no secret feelings of rage or, if they did, meditated, or discussed these feelings with a friend until such time as the feelings abated, or were understood to be symptomatic of some deeper sadness.
It should be noted that, in addition to the above-listed and planned activities completed by our members, a number of unplanned activities were completed by part-time members, or even nonmembers.
In London, a bitter homophobic grandfather whose grocery bag broke open gave a loaf of very nice bread to a balding gay man who stopped to help him. A stooped toothless woman in Tokyo pounded her head with her hands, tired beyond belief of her lifelong feelings of anger and negativity, and silently prayed that her heart would somehow be opened before it was too late. In Syracuse, New York, holding the broken body of his kitten, a man felt a sudden kinship for all small things.
Even declared nonmembers, it would appear, responded to our efforts. In Chitral, Pakistan, for example, a recent al-Qaida recruit remembered the way an elderly American tourist once made an encouraging remark about his English, and how, as she made the remark, she touched his arm, like a mother. In Gaza, an Israeli soldier and a young Palestinian, just before averting their eyes and muttering insults in their respective languages, exchanged a brief look of mutual shame.
Who are we? A word about our membership.
Since the world began, we have gone about our work quietly, resisting the urge to generalize, valuing the individual over the group, the actual over the conceptual, the inherent sweetness of the present moment over the theoretically peaceful future to be obtained via murder. Many of us have trouble sleeping and lie awake at night, worrying about something catastrophic befalling someone we love. We rise in the morning with no plans to convert anyone via beating, humiliation, or invasion. To tell the truth, we are tired. We work. We would just like some peace and quiet. When wrong, we think about it awhile, then apologize. We stand under awnings during urban thunderstorms, moved to thoughtfulness by the troubled, umbrella-tinged faces rushing by. In moments of crisis, we pat one another awkwardly on the back, mumbling shy truisms. Rushing to an appointment, remembering a friend who has passed away, our eyes well with tears and we think: Well, my God, he could be a pain, but still I'm lucky to have known him.
This is PRKA. To those who would oppose us, I would simply say: We are many. We are worldwide. We, in fact, outnumber you. Though you are louder, though you create a momentary ripple on the water of life, we will endure, and prevail.
Join us.
Resistance is futile.
A press release from PRKA.
By George Saunders
Posted Thursday, Aug. 26, 2004, at 12:59 PM PT
Last Thursday, my organization, People Reluctant To Kill for an Abstraction, orchestrated an overwhelming show of force around the globe.
At precisely 9 in the morning, working with focus and stealth, our entire membership succeeded in simultaneously beheading no one. At 10, Phase II began, during which our entire membership did not force a single man to suck another man's penis. Also, none of us blew himself/herself up in a crowded public place. No civilians were literally turned inside out via our powerful explosives. In addition, at 11, in Phase III, zero (0) planes were flown into buildings.
During Phase IV, just after lunch, we were able to avoid bulldozing a single home. Furthermore, we set, on roads in every city, in every nation in the world, a total of zero (0) roadside bombs which, not being there, did not subsequently explode, killing/maiming a total of nobody. No bombs were dropped, during the lazy afternoon hours, on crowded civilian neighborhoods, from which, it was observed, no post-bomb momentary silences were then heard. These silences were, in all cases, followed by no unimaginable, grief-stricken bellows of rage, and/or frantic imprecations to a deity. No sleeping baby was awakened from an afternoon nap by the sudden collapse and/or bursting into flame of his/her domicile during Phase IV.
In the late afternoon (Phase V), our membership focused on using zero (0) trained dogs to bite/terrorize naked prisoners. In addition, no stun guns, rubber batons, rubber bullets, tear gas, or bullets were used, by our membership, on any individual, anywhere in the world. No one was forced to don a hood. No teeth were pulled in darkened rooms. No drills were used on human flesh, nor were whips or flames. No one was reduced to hysterical tears via a series of blows to the head or body, by us. Our membership, while casting no racial or ethnic aspersions, skillfully continued not to rape, gang-rape, or sexually assault a single person. On the contrary, during this late-afternoon phase, many of our membership flirted happily and even consoled, in a nonsexual way, individuals to whom they were attracted, putting aside their sexual feelings out of a sudden welling of empathy.
As night fell, our membership harbored no secret feelings of rage or, if they did, meditated, or discussed these feelings with a friend until such time as the feelings abated, or were understood to be symptomatic of some deeper sadness.
It should be noted that, in addition to the above-listed and planned activities completed by our members, a number of unplanned activities were completed by part-time members, or even nonmembers.
In London, a bitter homophobic grandfather whose grocery bag broke open gave a loaf of very nice bread to a balding gay man who stopped to help him. A stooped toothless woman in Tokyo pounded her head with her hands, tired beyond belief of her lifelong feelings of anger and negativity, and silently prayed that her heart would somehow be opened before it was too late. In Syracuse, New York, holding the broken body of his kitten, a man felt a sudden kinship for all small things.
Even declared nonmembers, it would appear, responded to our efforts. In Chitral, Pakistan, for example, a recent al-Qaida recruit remembered the way an elderly American tourist once made an encouraging remark about his English, and how, as she made the remark, she touched his arm, like a mother. In Gaza, an Israeli soldier and a young Palestinian, just before averting their eyes and muttering insults in their respective languages, exchanged a brief look of mutual shame.
Who are we? A word about our membership.
Since the world began, we have gone about our work quietly, resisting the urge to generalize, valuing the individual over the group, the actual over the conceptual, the inherent sweetness of the present moment over the theoretically peaceful future to be obtained via murder. Many of us have trouble sleeping and lie awake at night, worrying about something catastrophic befalling someone we love. We rise in the morning with no plans to convert anyone via beating, humiliation, or invasion. To tell the truth, we are tired. We work. We would just like some peace and quiet. When wrong, we think about it awhile, then apologize. We stand under awnings during urban thunderstorms, moved to thoughtfulness by the troubled, umbrella-tinged faces rushing by. In moments of crisis, we pat one another awkwardly on the back, mumbling shy truisms. Rushing to an appointment, remembering a friend who has passed away, our eyes well with tears and we think: Well, my God, he could be a pain, but still I'm lucky to have known him.
This is PRKA. To those who would oppose us, I would simply say: We are many. We are worldwide. We, in fact, outnumber you. Though you are louder, though you create a momentary ripple on the water of life, we will endure, and prevail.
Join us.
Resistance is futile.
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
GREEK SECURITY TEAM FAILS TO NOTICE GIANT HORSE
Mysterious Wooden Structure Causing Pre-Olympic Jitters
Olympic security officials in Athens, Greece conceded today that they had failed to notice a giant wooden horse that had been wheeled to within meters of the Olympic stadium sometime late last week.
The sudden appearance of the gigantic horse, which was said to measure over one hundred cubits in width, has raised fresh concerns that the security around the Olympic complex might be more porous than originally thought.
"When you're spending over $1.5 billion in security, quite frankly, somebody shouldn't be able to wheel a giant wooden horse right up to your stadium," said one U.S. official today.
But Thanasis Kyriakou, who is coordinating the security efforts for the 2004 Olympics, said that the horse, while of unknown origin, posed no serious security threat to the Games, which are set to begin in three days.
"If anything, this gigantic horse is only bringing more attention to the Olympics," he said. "I see this horse as a tremendous gift."
Sharply disagreeing with Mr. Kyriakou is NBC Sports Chairman Dick Ebersol, who said that the unplanned presence of a gigantic horse could ruin his network's coverage of the Games.
"It's wrecking all of our camera angles," Mr. Ebersol said. "Everywhere you look, there's that dopey horse in the background."
For his part, Mr. Kyriakou believes that the enormous horse could enhance viewership of the Olympics and has even recommended wheeling the mysterious wooden structure into the stadium itself.
"I say let the horse in," he said. "What's the worst that could happen?"
Mysterious Wooden Structure Causing Pre-Olympic Jitters
Olympic security officials in Athens, Greece conceded today that they had failed to notice a giant wooden horse that had been wheeled to within meters of the Olympic stadium sometime late last week.
The sudden appearance of the gigantic horse, which was said to measure over one hundred cubits in width, has raised fresh concerns that the security around the Olympic complex might be more porous than originally thought.
"When you're spending over $1.5 billion in security, quite frankly, somebody shouldn't be able to wheel a giant wooden horse right up to your stadium," said one U.S. official today.
But Thanasis Kyriakou, who is coordinating the security efforts for the 2004 Olympics, said that the horse, while of unknown origin, posed no serious security threat to the Games, which are set to begin in three days.
"If anything, this gigantic horse is only bringing more attention to the Olympics," he said. "I see this horse as a tremendous gift."
Sharply disagreeing with Mr. Kyriakou is NBC Sports Chairman Dick Ebersol, who said that the unplanned presence of a gigantic horse could ruin his network's coverage of the Games.
"It's wrecking all of our camera angles," Mr. Ebersol said. "Everywhere you look, there's that dopey horse in the background."
For his part, Mr. Kyriakou believes that the enormous horse could enhance viewership of the Olympics and has even recommended wheeling the mysterious wooden structure into the stadium itself.
"I say let the horse in," he said. "What's the worst that could happen?"
Tuesday, August 10, 2004
"The World Is a Beautiful Place
by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
The world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't mind happiness
not always being
so very much fun
if you don't mind a touch of hell
now and then
just when everything is fine
because even in heaven
they don't sing
all the time
The world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't mind some people dying
all the time
or maybe only starving
some of the time
which isn't half bad
if it isn't you
Oh the world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't much mind
a few dead minds
in the higher places
or a bomb or two
now and then
in your upturned faces
or such other improprieties
as our Name Brand society
is prey to
with its men of distinction
and its men of extinction
and its priests
and other patrolmen
and its various segregations
and congressional investigations
and other constipations
that our fool flesh
is heir to
Yes the world is the best place of all
for a lot of such things as
making the fun scene
and making the love scene
and making the sad scene
and singing low songs and having inspirations
and walking around
looking at everything
and smelling flowers
and goosing statues
and even thinking
and kissing people and
making babies and wearing pants
and waving hats and
dancing
and going swimming in rivers
on picnics
in the middle of the summer
and just generally
'living it up'
Yes
but then right in the middle of it
comes the smiling
mortician "
by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
The world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't mind happiness
not always being
so very much fun
if you don't mind a touch of hell
now and then
just when everything is fine
because even in heaven
they don't sing
all the time
The world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't mind some people dying
all the time
or maybe only starving
some of the time
which isn't half bad
if it isn't you
Oh the world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't much mind
a few dead minds
in the higher places
or a bomb or two
now and then
in your upturned faces
or such other improprieties
as our Name Brand society
is prey to
with its men of distinction
and its men of extinction
and its priests
and other patrolmen
and its various segregations
and congressional investigations
and other constipations
that our fool flesh
is heir to
Yes the world is the best place of all
for a lot of such things as
making the fun scene
and making the love scene
and making the sad scene
and singing low songs and having inspirations
and walking around
looking at everything
and smelling flowers
and goosing statues
and even thinking
and kissing people and
making babies and wearing pants
and waving hats and
dancing
and going swimming in rivers
on picnics
in the middle of the summer
and just generally
'living it up'
Yes
but then right in the middle of it
comes the smiling
mortician "
Monday, June 21, 2004
"On Children
And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, 'Speak to us of Children.'
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable. "
And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, 'Speak to us of Children.'
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable. "
Saturday, February 28, 2004
Friday, February 27, 2004
I'll be damned, here comes your ghost again
but that's not unusual
it's just that the moon is full
and you decided to come
And here I sit, hand on the telephone
hearing the voice I'd known
a couple of light years ago
headed straight for a fall
But we both know what memories can bring
they bring Diamonds and Rust
yes we both know what memories can bring
they bring Diamonds and Rust
Now I see you standing with brown leaves all around and snow in your hair
Now we're smiling out the window of the crummy hotel over washington square
and then comes that white clouds, mingles and hangs in the air
Speaking strictly for me
we both could've died then and there
Now you're telling me you're not nostalgic
then give me another word for it
you were so good with words
and at keeping things paid
cause I need some of that vagueness now, it's all come back too clearly
yes, I love you dearly
and if you're offering me diamonds and rust
I've already paid
But we both know what memories can bring
they bring Diamonds and Rust
yes we both know what memories can bring
they bring Diamonds and Rust
but that's not unusual
it's just that the moon is full
and you decided to come
And here I sit, hand on the telephone
hearing the voice I'd known
a couple of light years ago
headed straight for a fall
But we both know what memories can bring
they bring Diamonds and Rust
yes we both know what memories can bring
they bring Diamonds and Rust
Now I see you standing with brown leaves all around and snow in your hair
Now we're smiling out the window of the crummy hotel over washington square
and then comes that white clouds, mingles and hangs in the air
Speaking strictly for me
we both could've died then and there
Now you're telling me you're not nostalgic
then give me another word for it
you were so good with words
and at keeping things paid
cause I need some of that vagueness now, it's all come back too clearly
yes, I love you dearly
and if you're offering me diamonds and rust
I've already paid
But we both know what memories can bring
they bring Diamonds and Rust
yes we both know what memories can bring
they bring Diamonds and Rust
Tuesday, February 24, 2004
Herman Goering: "'Of course the people don't want war. But after all, it's the leaders of the country who determine the policy, and it's always a simple matter to drag the people along whether it's a democracy, a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship. Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism, and exposing the country to greater danger.'
-- Herman Goering at the Nuremberg trials "
-- Herman Goering at the Nuremberg trials "
"Song
By Frank Bidart
You know that it is there, lair
where the bear ceases
for a time even to exist.
Crawl in. You have at last killed
enough and eaten enough to be fat
enough to cease for a time to exist.
Crawl in. It takes talent to live at night, and scorning
others you had that talent, but now you sniff
the season when you must cease to exist.
Crawl in. Whatever for good or ill
grows within you needs
you for a time to cease to exist.
It is not raining inside
tonight. You know that it is there. Crawl in."
By Frank Bidart
You know that it is there, lair
where the bear ceases
for a time even to exist.
Crawl in. You have at last killed
enough and eaten enough to be fat
enough to cease for a time to exist.
Crawl in. It takes talent to live at night, and scorning
others you had that talent, but now you sniff
the season when you must cease to exist.
Crawl in. Whatever for good or ill
grows within you needs
you for a time to cease to exist.
It is not raining inside
tonight. You know that it is there. Crawl in."
Monday, February 23, 2004
Thursday, February 19, 2004
Wednesday, February 11, 2004
Tuesday, February 10, 2004
"Waken we must, or else life is half-lived in a numbness, and its beauty is shrouded in fog. With effort and resolve, we shall live awake and aware, unwilling to lie down and have our lives stolen from us. Our children will be safely off to meadows and streams of good health and creative joy. Our elders will be cared for and loved. Our workers will enjoy the fruits and securities of their labors in the world we are building one vote at a time."
Thursday, February 05, 2004
Random Name Generator: "The random name generator uses data from the US Census to randomly generate male and female names. Use it for screenplays, fake id's, car rentals, pick-up lines, books, prank calls, movies.
Give a random name to that special someone you meet at the bar.
Yours Truly,
Modesto Leppink"
Give a random name to that special someone you meet at the bar.
Yours Truly,
Modesto Leppink"
Wednesday, February 04, 2004
Book of the Dead
By Garrett Doherty
If you die
look at your clone happy to appear,
always liking vague immortal things.
After you die he talks and talks about you
those who loved you don't talk.
After, the rose of Onlooking will ask more of you,
the constellations shift, transduce a couple hearts.
As soon as you go
a cousin inherits the red-checked mother-of-pearl shirt,
cracks your viola on the way down the stairs,
a little spit to cover it up.
After the christening your relatives are trying
to give away your rocking chairs, cans of pimento, the Knox gelatin
the same ones who sing to your body
Wind blows over what you saw.
In the sage plant a spider blinks for you;
a few paws twitch in the pet psychic's dream.
In the end your mother's hand
slips your umbrella under the wet leaves.
Sarah Strong, once your worst love,
remembers where her hair brush is
now that you're gone.
We'd all love like her if we could
the way she thinks of you once in a while
when she's hungry, in front of the refrigerator,
cool air falling onto her feet.
By Garrett Doherty
If you die
look at your clone happy to appear,
always liking vague immortal things.
After you die he talks and talks about you
those who loved you don't talk.
After, the rose of Onlooking will ask more of you,
the constellations shift, transduce a couple hearts.
As soon as you go
a cousin inherits the red-checked mother-of-pearl shirt,
cracks your viola on the way down the stairs,
a little spit to cover it up.
After the christening your relatives are trying
to give away your rocking chairs, cans of pimento, the Knox gelatin
the same ones who sing to your body
Wind blows over what you saw.
In the sage plant a spider blinks for you;
a few paws twitch in the pet psychic's dream.
In the end your mother's hand
slips your umbrella under the wet leaves.
Sarah Strong, once your worst love,
remembers where her hair brush is
now that you're gone.
We'd all love like her if we could
the way she thinks of you once in a while
when she's hungry, in front of the refrigerator,
cool air falling onto her feet.
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
Elsewhere, experts around the world confirmed that moments after Ms. Jackson's right boob fell out of its housing, Western civilization fell as well.
Dr. Milton Campeaux of the University of Minnesota said that experts were surprised that Ms. Jackson caused Western civilization's long-awaited collapse.
'We all expected a Jackson to do it, but not Janet,' he said.
Dr. Milton Campeaux of the University of Minnesota said that experts were surprised that Ms. Jackson caused Western civilization's long-awaited collapse.
'We all expected a Jackson to do it, but not Janet,' he said.
Wednesday, January 28, 2004
The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it...
Through violence you may murder the hater, but you do not murder hate. In fact, violence merely increases hate....
Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.
Dr. Martin Luther King
Through violence you may murder the hater, but you do not murder hate. In fact, violence merely increases hate....
Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.
Dr. Martin Luther King
THe Bear:
The Bear
By Dan Chiasson
In quiet, in the exquisite privacy of a cave, a bear
is giving birth. Outside the cave a steady rain falls
but here there are no echoes, only the sound
of her convulsing body and her babies' cries.
Her cubs are white, screaming lumps, eyeless until
she licks their eyes into place, bald until
she paints fur up and down them with her tongue.
It is a litter of five at least; it is hard to see
how many have burrowed under her soft belly.
Also, this is ancient Rome; it is hard to see through
so much time. It makes you wonder how many
other beautiful sights are hidden away in time,
a cavelike element famous for its dimness. Now she
and her cubs are emerging from the cave, leaving
one weakling behind. He is lame, and will not survive
this rainy night two thousand years ago. By now
he is vanishing into the floor of the dark cave,
even his newly painted fur, even his fresh eyes.
By now he's gone entirely from view.
All the caves on this hill are identical again."
The Bear
By Dan Chiasson
In quiet, in the exquisite privacy of a cave, a bear
is giving birth. Outside the cave a steady rain falls
but here there are no echoes, only the sound
of her convulsing body and her babies' cries.
Her cubs are white, screaming lumps, eyeless until
she licks their eyes into place, bald until
she paints fur up and down them with her tongue.
It is a litter of five at least; it is hard to see
how many have burrowed under her soft belly.
Also, this is ancient Rome; it is hard to see through
so much time. It makes you wonder how many
other beautiful sights are hidden away in time,
a cavelike element famous for its dimness. Now she
and her cubs are emerging from the cave, leaving
one weakling behind. He is lame, and will not survive
this rainy night two thousand years ago. By now
he is vanishing into the floor of the dark cave,
even his newly painted fur, even his fresh eyes.
By now he's gone entirely from view.
All the caves on this hill are identical again."
Tuesday, January 27, 2004
Dean, Lobotomized - He shouldn't take that abuse from Diane Sawyer. By Timothy�Noah: "Seeing Dean beg for mercy over what was merely an untelegenic display of enthusiasm called to mind the last scene in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, when Chief Bromden finds McMurphy, and he's been lobotomized, all rebellion and mischief sucked out of him, and you don't know whether to rage or weep. If only Dean had taken a swing at Nurse Ratched before they wheeled him into the operating room."
Tuesday, January 20, 2004
The Earth Turned to Bring Us Closer by Eugenio Montejo:
The Earth turned to bring us closer,
it spun on itself and within us,
and finally joined us together in this dream
as written in the Symposium.
Nights passed by, snowfalls and solstices;
time passed in minutes and millennia.
An ox cart that was on its way to Nineveh
arrived in Nebraska.
A rooster was singing some distance from the world,
in one of the thousand pre-lives of our fathers.
The Earth was spinning with its music
carrying us on board;
it didn't stop turning a single moment
as if so much love, so much that's miraculous
was only an adagio written long ago
in the Symposium's score."
The Earth turned to bring us closer,
it spun on itself and within us,
and finally joined us together in this dream
as written in the Symposium.
Nights passed by, snowfalls and solstices;
time passed in minutes and millennia.
An ox cart that was on its way to Nineveh
arrived in Nebraska.
A rooster was singing some distance from the world,
in one of the thousand pre-lives of our fathers.
The Earth was spinning with its music
carrying us on board;
it didn't stop turning a single moment
as if so much love, so much that's miraculous
was only an adagio written long ago
in the Symposium's score."
Friday, January 16, 2004
knot.magazine: "Cancer or not, we're all fucking around on the edge of a bottomless, black chasm talking about shit like what we're going to have for dinner.
We have the hot breath of a blood-thirsty beast on the back of our necks, and we do crossword puzzles and take scenic drives.
And I don't know whether all of that is a sign of idiocy or genius."
We have the hot breath of a blood-thirsty beast on the back of our necks, and we do crossword puzzles and take scenic drives.
And I don't know whether all of that is a sign of idiocy or genius."
Wednesday, January 14, 2004
This Modern World: "Okay, let me get this straight...
George Bush wants to cut taxes while financing his various wars and nation-building efforts...
...and go back to the moon?
Every credit card in the national wallet is maxed out, and Dad suddenly has a midlife crisis and decides he wants to buy a friggin' moon rocket.
It's no wonder the neighbors think we're crazy."
George Bush wants to cut taxes while financing his various wars and nation-building efforts...
...and go back to the moon?
Every credit card in the national wallet is maxed out, and Dad suddenly has a midlife crisis and decides he wants to buy a friggin' moon rocket.
It's no wonder the neighbors think we're crazy."
The Website of the Former Healey Campaign: "Sorry I couldn't be here to save you $3 million.
I'm on vacation.
If you need anything, please contact
the office of the Lieutenant Governor.
You paid for it."
I'm on vacation.
If you need anything, please contact
the office of the Lieutenant Governor.
You paid for it."
Monday, January 12, 2004
"BLIND, DEAF PEOPLE OBJECT TO BEING COMPARED TO BUSH ADMINISTRATION
Demand Apology From Paul O'Neill
After former Treasury Secretary Paul O'Neill likened President George W. Bush in his Cabinet meetings to a 'blind man in a roomful of deaf people,' representatives of the blind and the deaf demanded a prompt and total apology from the former administration official.
'Blind and deaf people have had a lot to contend with in the past, but this remark represents a new low,' said Lois Pankow of the Coalition for the Blind and the Deaf. 'To be compared to President Bush and his Cabinet is at the very least hurtful and quite possibly slanderous as well.'
While Ms. Pankow would not confirm that the blind and the deaf intended to take legal action against Mr. O'Neill for his remarks, she said, 'We are quite confident that any court would decide that being compared to the Bush administration has damaged the reputation of the blind and the deaf, perhaps irreparably.'
Moments after Ms. Pankow's statement, Mr. O'Neill released a statement of his own, apologizing for his comments: 'What I meant to say was that the Bush White House was like a roomful of monkeys banging away on typewriters, trying to write the complete works of William Shakespeare.'
But moments after his apology was released, a representative of PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) blasted Mr. O'Neill for his new remarks, saying that they had 'defamed the reputation of monkeys everywhere.'
For his part, President Bush today released a statement comparing himself to 'rubber' and Mr. O'Neill to 'glue.'"
Demand Apology From Paul O'Neill
After former Treasury Secretary Paul O'Neill likened President George W. Bush in his Cabinet meetings to a 'blind man in a roomful of deaf people,' representatives of the blind and the deaf demanded a prompt and total apology from the former administration official.
'Blind and deaf people have had a lot to contend with in the past, but this remark represents a new low,' said Lois Pankow of the Coalition for the Blind and the Deaf. 'To be compared to President Bush and his Cabinet is at the very least hurtful and quite possibly slanderous as well.'
While Ms. Pankow would not confirm that the blind and the deaf intended to take legal action against Mr. O'Neill for his remarks, she said, 'We are quite confident that any court would decide that being compared to the Bush administration has damaged the reputation of the blind and the deaf, perhaps irreparably.'
Moments after Ms. Pankow's statement, Mr. O'Neill released a statement of his own, apologizing for his comments: 'What I meant to say was that the Bush White House was like a roomful of monkeys banging away on typewriters, trying to write the complete works of William Shakespeare.'
But moments after his apology was released, a representative of PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) blasted Mr. O'Neill for his new remarks, saying that they had 'defamed the reputation of monkeys everywhere.'
For his part, President Bush today released a statement comparing himself to 'rubber' and Mr. O'Neill to 'glue.'"
Thursday, January 08, 2004
"We all know someone who, through a series of cruel fate-twists, wound up employed by a monolithic, soul-crushing behemoth of a corporation that has, over the years, so thoroughly eroded his self-confidence and sense of wonder that the only time he can muster enthusiasm for anything work-related is when he fantasizes about perforating his superiors and coworkers. Well, turn that frown upside down with The Shocking Mouse! Just imagine the grimace of delight that will spasm across his face when he emerges from a 90-minute Pre-Discussion Meeting with Marketing to prepare participants for the two-hour Post-Pre-Discussion Planning Roundtable later that afternoon, trudges back to his cubicle and, upon touching his mouse, receives a painful electric jolt! You’ll know you got him the perfect gift when you see him put his head into his hands and sob, overcome with the joy of the holidays. "
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