Daisy Daisy

There is an unmitigated gloom that now hangs over not just the Romney campaign, but media coverage of the entire race. You can see that despair in the face of everyone on television, in the words of every writer who still has to act as if this is anything but a waste of time until we learn by how much Barack Obama beats Mitt Romney. And the existential despair here is that they - hell, we - are all damned to keep discussing it because there's still over a month left. It's especially keen on CNN, where the anchors and reporters keep up the pretense of balance. You can see the dead stare in Erin Burnett's eyes that says, "Why the fuck are we bothering? Please, let there be a war somewhere that we can be sent to."

On the right, the punditry and reporting ranges from resigned recognition of imminent failure, with a vague hope of stanching the bleed out in congressional races, to desperately hammering away at the same points against Obama because repeating lies has worked so well before. It's pathetic, like watching a wounded seal try to get back to the safety of the shore before the killer whale finishes it off.

But all of this is a waste of time. The most desperate on the right will pen simple-minded articles, ranting about how Obama is so godforsakenly awful that Romney will win just because. That's bullshit, and their frantic ululations and blood sacrifices to their awful gods - Reagan, Ayn Rand, and others - demonstrate for all to see that they have nothing but dead virgins to show for their mad rituals at the edge of this exploding volcano.

--The Rude Pundit
9/26/12



Republicans approve of the American farmer, but they are willing to help him go broke. They stand four-square for the American home--but not for housing. They are strong for labor--but they are stronger for restricting labor's rights. They favor minimum wage--the smaller the minimum wage the better. They endorse educational opportunity for all--but they won't spend money for teachers or for schools. They think modern medical care and hospitals are fine--for people who can afford them. They consider electrical power a great blessing--but only when the private power companies get their rake-off. They think American standard of living is a fine thing--so long as it doesn't spread to all the people. And they admire of Government of the United States so much that they would like to buy it.
--Harry S. Truman

Bohemian Wedding Prayer

Shannon McNally
Bohemian Wedding Prayer
Oxford, MS.
5/22/09

“I am no king, and I am no lord,
And I am no soldier at-arms," said he.
"I'm none but a harper, and a very poor harper,
That am come hither to wed with ye."

"If you were a lord, you should be my lord,
And the same if you were a thief," said she.
"And if you are a harper, you shall be my harper,
For it makes no matter to me, to me,
For it makes no matter to me."

"But what if it prove that I am no harper?
That I lied for your love most monstrously?"
"Why, then I'll teach you to play and sing,
For I dearly love a good harp," said she.

--Peter S. Beagle

Shannon McNally: Pale Moon

On Fukushima Beach

Andrew Ebisu: On Fukusima Beach


On the beach at night,
Stands a child with her father,
Watching the east, the autumn sky.

Up through the darkness,
While ravening clouds, the burial clouds, in black masses spreading,
Lower sullen and fast athwart and down the sky,
Amid a transparent clear belt of ether yet left in the east,
Ascends large and calm the lord-star Jupiter,
And nigh at hand, only a very little above,
Swim the delicate sisters the Pleiades.

From the beach the child holding the hand of her father,
Those burial-clouds that lower victorious soon to devour all,
Watching, silently weeps.

Weep not, child,
Weep not, my darling,
With these kisses let me remove your tears,
The ravening clouds shall not long be victorious,
They shall not long possess the sky,
They devour the stars only in apparition,
Jupiter shall emerge, be patient,
Watch again another night, the Pleiades shall emerge,
They are immortal, all those stars
Both silvery and golden shall shine out again,
The great stars and the little ones
Shall shine out again, they endure,
The vast immortal suns
And the long-enduring pensive moons shall again shine.

Then dearest child mournest thou only for Jupiter?
Considerest thou alone the burial of the stars?

Something there is,
(With my lips soothing thee, adding I whisper,
I give thee the first suggestion, the problem and indirection,)
Something there is more immortal even than the stars,
(Many the burials, many the days and nights, passing away,)
Something that shall endure longer even than lustrous Jupiter
Longer than sun or any revolving satellite,
Or the radiant sisters the Pleiades.

--Walt Whitman
On the Beach at Night

Grateful Dead: Ship of Fools 12/5/79

Did You Ever Have To Make Up Your Mind?

There's nothing
in the middle of the road
but yellow stripes
and dead armadillos.
--Jim Hightower

Atomic Journeys: Welcome To Ground Zero

Atomic Journeys:
Welcome to Ground Zero

directed by Peter Kuran
narrated by William Shatner
52 minutes
1999

Isao Hashimoto: the 2053 nuclear explosions between 1945 and 1998

Happy Birthday John Coltrane

John Coltrane/McCoy Tyner/Jimmy Garrison/Elvin Jones
(1963)
Alabama
Impressions
Afro Blue

John Coltrane/Miles Davis/Wynton Kelly/Paul Chambers/Jimmy Cobb (1959)
So What
The Duke
Blues For Pablo
New Rhumba

John Coltrane/Eric Dolphy/McCoy Tyner/Reggie Workman/Elvin Jones (1961)
My Favorite Things
Impressions

Doug Lang: "Crooked" (Unreleased Originals)

BRISTLECONE PINE WITH MILKY WAY...(THOMAS SULLIVAN)

CROOKED is an unreleased album of Doug Lang originals recorded
in 2005 at Svensrud Farm in Norway.
Check out his You Tube channel for more fine songs. Great stuff.

Scarecrow
The Luck
Summer of St. Augustine
Kid Alton
All Who Pass Must Pay
Farmer's Lament
Talk To Me
Be With Me
Border Town
Morning Dew
Nashville (for J. Cash)
Crooked
Blossoms

Don't Roof Rack Me, Bro!

Devo: Don't Roof Rack Me, Bro!

He who is cruel to animals becomes hard also in his dealings with men. We can judge the heart of a man
by his treatment of animals.
--Immanuel Kant

Big Brother is WWWatching You

Adam was but human--
this explains it all.
He did not want the apple
for the apple's sake,
he wanted it only because
it was forbidden.
The mistake was in not
forbidding the serpent;
then he would have
eaten the serpent.
--Mark Twain

A Dying Cubs Fan's Last Request

BASEBALL MITT

Steve Goodman
A Dying Cubs Fan's Last Request

by the shores of old Lake Michigan
where the "hawk wind" blows so cold
an old Cub fan lay dying
in his midnight hour that tolled
round his bed his friends had all gathered
they knew his time was short
upon his head they put a bright blue cap
from his all-time favorite sport
he told them, it's late and it's getting dark in here
and I know its time to go
but before I leave the line-up
there's just one thing I'd like to know

do they still play the blues in Chicago
when baseball season rolls around?
when the snow melts away
do the Cubbies still play
in their ivy-covered burial ground?
when I was a boy they were my pride and joy
but now they only bring fatigue
to the home of the brave
the land of the free
and the doormat of the National League

told his friends you know the law of averages says
anything will happen that can
that's what it says
but the last time the Cubs won a National League pennant
was the year we dropped the bomb on Japan
the Cubs made me a criminal
sent me down a wayward path
they stole my youth from me
(that's the truth)
I'd forsake my teachers
to go sit in the bleachers
in flagrant truancy

and then one thing led to another
and soon I'd discovered alcohol, gambling, dope
football, hockey, lacrosse, tennis
but what do you expect
when you raise up a young boy's hopes
and then just crush 'em like so many paper beer cups

year after year after year
after year, after year, after year, after year, after year
'til those hopes are just so much popcorn
for the pigeons beneath the 'L' tracks to eat
he said, you know I'll never see
Wrigley Field anymore before my eternal rest
so if you have your pencils and your score cards ready
I'll read you my last request
he said, give me a double header funeral in Wrigley Field
on some sunny weekend day (no lights)
have the organ play the National Anthem
and then a little 'na na na na hey hey hey goodbye
make six bullpen pitchers carry my coffin
and six grounds keepers clear my path
have the umpires bark me out at every base
in all their holy wrath
its a beautiful day for a funeral
hey Ernie lets play two!
somebody go get Jack Brickhouse to come back
and conduct just one more interview
have the Cubbies run right out into the middle of the field
have Keith Moreland drop a routine fly
give everybody two bags of peanuts and a frosty malt
and I'll be ready to die

build a big fire on home plate
out of your Louisville Slugger baseball bats,
and toss my coffin in
let my ashes blow in a beautiful snow
from the prevailing 30 mile an hour southwest wind
when my last remains go flying over the left-field wall
I'll bid the bleacher bums adieu
and I will come to my final resting place out on Waveland Avenue

the dying man's friends told him to cut it out
they said stop it that's an awful shame
he whispered, don't cry,
we'll meet by and by near the Heavenly Hall of Fame
he said, I've got season's tickets to watch the Angels now
so it's just what I'm going to do
he said, but you the living, you're stuck here with the Cubs
so it's me that feels sorry for you!

and he said, ahh play, play that lonesome losers' tune
that's the one I like the best
and he closed his eyes and slipped away
what we got is the Dying Cub Fan's Last Request
and here it is

do they still play the blues in Chicago
when baseball season rolls around?
when the snow melts away
do the Cubbies still play
in their ivy-covered burial ground?
when I was a boy they were my pride and joy
but now they only bring fatigue
to the home of the brave
the land of the free
and the doormat of the National League

The Return Of Sterling Hayden

Tom Russell : Sterling Hayden


To be truly challenging, a voyage, like a life, must rest on a firm foundation of financial unrest. Otherwise, you are doomed to a routine traverse, the kind known to yachtsmen who play with their boats at sea... "cruising" it is called. Voyaging belongs to seamen, and to the wanderers of the world who cannot, or will not, fit in. If you are contemplating a voyage and you have the means, abandon the venture until your fortunes change. Only then will you know what the sea is all about.
"I've always wanted to sail to the south seas, but I can't afford it." What these men can't afford is not to go. They are enmeshed in the cancerous discipline of "security." And in the worship of security we fling our lives beneath the wheels of routine - and before we know it our lives are gone.
What does a man need - really need? A few pounds of food each day, heat and shelter, six feet to lie down in - and some form of working activity that will yield a sense of accomplishment. That's all - in the material sense, and we know it. But we are brainwashed by our economic system until we end up in a tomb beneath a pyramid of time payments, mortgages, preposterous gadgetry, playthings that divert our attention from the sheer idiocy of the charade.
The years thunder by. The dreams of youth grow dim where they lie caked in dust on the shelves of patience. Before we know it, the tomb is sealed.
Where, then, lies the answer? In choice.
Which shall it be: bankruptcy of purse or bankruptcy of life?

--Sterling Hayden
Wanderer

Radioactivity

Kraftwerk: Radioactivity ...NYC 4/12/12

IF LIBERTY
MEANS ANYTHING
AT ALL,
IT MEANS
THE RIGHT
TO TELL PEOPLE
WHAT THEY
DO NOT WANT
TO HEAR.
--GEORGE ORWELL







Kraftwerk: Radioactivity ...Tokyo 7/7/12

O, PARDON ME,
THOU BLEEDING
PIECE OF EARTH,
THAT I AM MEEK
AND GENTLE
WITH THESE BUTCHERS!
--WM. SHAKESPEARE










some thoughts about Fukushima from Kevin Blanch...4/3/11

The Darkness

Leonard Cohen
The Darkness
Dublin, Ireland
9/11/12

i caught the darkness
it was drinking from your cup
i said, "is this contagious?"
you said, "just drink it up"

As Tides Polish Stones

For instance? Well, for instance, what it means to be a man. In a city. In a century. In transition. In a mass. Transformed by science. Under organized power. Subject to tremendous controls.
In a condition caused by mechanization. After the late failure of radical hopes. In a society that was no community and devalued the person. Owing to the multiplied power of numbers which made the self negligible. Which spent military billions against foreign enemies but would not pay for order at home. Which permitted savagery and barbarism in its own great cities. At the same time, the pressure of human millions who have discovered what concerted efforts and thoughts can do. As megatons of water shape organisms on the ocean floor. As tides polish stones. As winds hollow cliffs. The beautiful supermachinery opening a new life for innumerable mankind. Would you deny them the right to exist? Would you ask them to labor and go hungry while you yourself enjoyed old-fashioned Values? You--you yourself are a child of this mass and a brother to all the rest. or else an ingrate, dilettante, idiot. There, Herzog, thought Herzog, since you ask for the instance, is the way it runs.
--Saul Bellow
Herzog

Happy Birthday Van Morrison

Van Morrison: TB Sheets 1967

Van Morrison: Astral Weeks 1968