Someone Examines His Youth, Finds It Dry and Hollow, Porous to the Touch

Got notice I've successfully enrolled in Medicare A & B, I'll be officially old a month from yesterday, my knees and eyes old already, between the four of them extremely steep rocky downhill hikes now literally a maim-threatening, if not life-threatening, danger, here's my left eye (though these are all headshots):



I too get a giggle over Democrats mocking magacrackers as weird, the person who makes this blog has been posting Crackers Are Weird twxxts for years, and I am delighted that magacrackers are freaking the fuck out over the sudden and shocking paradigm shift from Inevitable Trump Victory to Trump's Vulnerable, but I haven't lost sight that motherfucking Democrats knew Biden diminished and feeble long before the primary season, killed the primary season, refused a primary season after Biden withdrew and refuse to evoke the 25th amendment and elevate Harris to potus and anointed her Biden's successor without a single concern of any fuck you might have had about it. My right eye:






So, threatening you with crackers as Democrats move to the right just might work again. Was, is, and always will be the plan. Hey, have you heard about the Israeli genocide and ethnic cleansing of Palestinians in Gaza and the West Bank? Betcha Harris sternly intoned the need for an immediate cease fire and Netanyahu performatively threw a shitfit, it was duly reported. I begrudge no one not wanting Trump, and I begrudge no one who fears a Magamerica, but a reminder that how Harris is now top of the ticket and how she got there and most importantly who put her there without seeking your consent should temper your expectations on how she would govern much less vanquish any ideas that she's anything but a shitty motherfucking professional Democrat (and cop). Enjoy the magameltdown while you can but remind yourself who Harris is, how she got there, and who she ultimately works for. Hint: not you. Too: she could lose. No, I don't know what I'm gonna do about the impending Bush, Melville, Gass, Garcia birthdays here. Yes, there is new Oneida (hear below grid, loud), have some old Oneida, loud:

The difference between Biden and Harris on Israel? “Zippo, Zilch, Zero!”
How 'Israel' Has Attrited The Human Attention Span
Why the West created a new dictionary for Israel and Palestine
Palestinian Deaths In the Gaza Conflict Are Probably Close To Half A Million
"No toddler gets shot twice by accident"
Illegal sale of Palestinian land embraced by Biden, governors, mayors and city councilmembers
The Relative Value of Life and Death
Only a Failing US Empire Would Be So Blind as To Cheer Netanyahu and His Genocide
What James C. Scott Taught Us About Liberty, Authority, Surveillance, and Resistance
HOW FOUR U.S. PRESIDENTS UNLEASHED ECONOMIC WARFARE ACROSS THE GLOBE
US Presidential Races Hide The Criminality Of The US Empire
The Jock/Creep Theory of Fascism
Your pre-flight orientation
Fintech bullies stole your kid's lunch money
Make Kamala Harris earn your vote?
Sparrow Spared, Cactus Extinct, and More Links From the Brink
Siding w Ahab			Aqua Nanna		{ feuilleton }
The End of Literature, part five
A review of Dinah Brooke’s excellent cult novel Lord Jim at Home
I'm 4/5ths the way through *Light in August* and enjoying it, the fuck?

VETIVER

John Ashbery

Ages passed slowly, like a load of hay,

As the flowers recited their lines

And pike stirred at the bottom of the pond.

The pen was cool to the touch.

The staircase swept upward

Through fragmented garlands, keeping the melancholy

Already distilled in letters of the alphabet.

It would be time for winter now, its spun-sugar

Palaces and also lines of care

At the mouth, pink smudges on the forehead and cheeks,

The color once known as “ashes of roses.”

How many snakes and lizards shed their skins

For time to be passing on like this,

Sinking deeper in the sand as it wound toward

The conclusion. It had all been working so well and now,

Well, it just kind of came apart in the hand

As a change is voiced, sharp

As a fishhook in the throat, and decorative tears flowed

Past us into a basin called infinity.

There was no charge for anything, the gates

Had been left open intentionally.

Don’t follow, you can have whatever it is.

And in some room someone examines his youth,

Finds it dry and hollow, porous to the touch.

O keep me with you, unless the outdoors

Embraces both of us, unites us, unless

The birdcatchers put away their twigs,

The fishermen haul in their sleek empty nets

And others become part of the immense crowd

Around this bonfire, a situation

That has come to mean us to us, and the crying

In the leaves is saved, the last silver drops.