Tuesday, March 27, 2012
The Post that Never Was
Disembodied when the One Ring was cut from his hand at the Battle of the Last Alliance in the Second Age, the Dark Lord Sauron became a shadowy echo of his former self. Formless and terrifying
I think Mazur will be happy with this selection.
Ancient beyond reckoning, Treebeard is wise and slow to act.
He's a tree. We made Williams a tree.
Gimli is a mighty warrior, quick to draw his broad axes in battle. Not given to subtlety, he wears his passions plainly for all to see. Yet for all his impulsiveness, Gimli is loyal and noble in spirit.
Sounds a little self-centered, right? He's still a fucking dwarf.
.
A Prince of the Elven Kingdom of Mirkwood, Legolas joined the Fellowship of the Ring as a representative of his people. Legolas possesses the keen eyesight and sharp ears characteristic of his race
Chambers does not deserves this cool a character.
A descendant of the lost line of the ancient kings of Men, Aragorn is fated to one day claim the empty throne of Gondor. Aragorn is a mighty warrior, wielding his blade with great adeptnes.
He is a good guy, deal with it Marc
Gandalf is the leader of the Fellowship of the Ring and the army of the West.
He's also crazy tall.
During his centuries under the Ring's influence, Gollum came to love and hate the Ring, just as he loved and hated himself. Throughout the story, Gollum is seen communing with his ego, torn between his lust for the Ring and his desire to be free of it.
Frodo’s uncle, who possesses the ring at the beginning of the trilogy. Bilbo is a playful old hobbit, but he is restless and covetous of his ring. His unsettled feelings suggest how great a burden it is to carry the ring and foreshadow the great travails that await Frodo.
One of the most significant events in Tolkien's stories was the meeting of Bilbo and Gollum.
The heir to the steward of Gondor. More than any other member of the fellowship of the ring, Boromir is the victim of desire for the ring. He attacks Frodo to try to take it from him. Later, Boromir attempts to make up for this slip by fighting the oncoming army of Uruk-hai. He is killed in battle, but his bravery allows the other members of the fellowship to survive.
Frodo’s best friend and constant companion. If Frodo’s burden is to carry the ring, Sam’s is to carry Frodo, which he literally does as the two finally struggle up Mount Doom. Sam is Frodo’s loyal friend, as committed as Frodo is to returning the ring and keeping the Shire safe. Considering his proximity to the ring, Sam is remarkably immune to its call. Sam himself carries the ring for a short time, and, if necessary, could probably have completed the mission on his own. When the four hobbits return to the Shire at the end, Sam emerges from Frodo’s shadow. He approaches the woman he’s been dreaming about, and soon they are married. Within little time he is a father of two, with a nice house and garden.
The ring-bearer and protagonist of the trilogy. A young hobbit, Frodo is chosen by the wizard Gandalf to return the ring to Mordor. The ring offers terrible temptation to anyone who comes near it, and though Frodo on occasion succumbs to its power, he generally shows remarkable strength before its siren call. However, when it comes time to drop the ring into Mount Doom, he is unable to simply let the ring go. In this way, he resembles his uncle Bilbo, a former owner of the ring who is forever restless. The ring has a great effect on Frodo, changing him from an ordinary hobbit of exceptional qualities into someone extraordinary.
Lubahn and I worked on this post years ago. We never finished it b/c Lubahn questioned my photoshop skills/effort and so I quit. This is 1 of the 11 limited editions poster I will be releasing.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Monday, March 19, 2012
i found and lost love and some lessons were learned,
and in losing that love a wretched solace does turn.
i'd known it would happen, that i'd tear it apart,
it was told early on i'd have to break my own heart.
as fate crossed our paths, whirled desires and wrath,
an inevitable math foretold a love would not last.
too many times did i howl and seek drink, scorn weak as a fink.
too many times did i sink, let leak my wretched freak,
to your willing caress, my witless tongue's cursed test,
you gave me your best but still i'd protest.
all that was right mattered not in my eyes as apishly
i trampled your poor heart down to size,
a size small as mine.
try as i might i often lost sight of how lucky i was
to just be by your side.
i'd let minds' disconnection preclude disaffection,
make angry my head, for surely we'd attach, what never was dead.
i wish i'd the intuition to listen and glisten,
instead i was selfish and densely did thicken.
i pushed you away when it'd been better to pray.
i preyed on your purity and left you in disarray.
and so now these limp words, none read nor heard
revealing no lessons learned, just memories and yearns,
are the solace i take, as i reflect on mistakes,
as my soul aches in this way...
im gonna go vomit now. feel free to ban me from posting.
and in losing that love a wretched solace does turn.
i'd known it would happen, that i'd tear it apart,
it was told early on i'd have to break my own heart.
as fate crossed our paths, whirled desires and wrath,
an inevitable math foretold a love would not last.
too many times did i howl and seek drink, scorn weak as a fink.
too many times did i sink, let leak my wretched freak,
to your willing caress, my witless tongue's cursed test,
you gave me your best but still i'd protest.
all that was right mattered not in my eyes as apishly
i trampled your poor heart down to size,
a size small as mine.
try as i might i often lost sight of how lucky i was
to just be by your side.
i'd let minds' disconnection preclude disaffection,
make angry my head, for surely we'd attach, what never was dead.
i wish i'd the intuition to listen and glisten,
instead i was selfish and densely did thicken.
i pushed you away when it'd been better to pray.
i preyed on your purity and left you in disarray.
and so now these limp words, none read nor heard
revealing no lessons learned, just memories and yearns,
are the solace i take, as i reflect on mistakes,
as my soul aches in this way...
im gonna go vomit now. feel free to ban me from posting.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Saturday, March 17, 2012
disavow.
y'all better become ril familiar with this word... and im not here, im just am illusion, just a lost conclusion. keep it ril, or ima kill your mom.
Friday, March 16, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Random thoughts from a recent visit to Mexico
• Who the fuck buys a hammock from a beach vendor…….just what I was looking for…a FUCKING backyard hammock
• You will run into Canadians and they will use the word “ay” at least 9 different ways, pay attention
• Tequila bars are open at most hotels 24 hours/day which led to my immediate thought of Mazur crowning himself king of the tequila stand shouting profanities at every passerbyer
• The drinks are free the entire time at an all-inclusive, they will not run out, slow down or you do black out before supper
• Paloma – A beautifully refreshing tequila drink that is very addictive
• Being at a place where you are in a bathing suit 10 hours/day you realize a few things:
1 -Legitimate fat people just don’t give a fuck about being fat
2 -How can old women not feel that breeze between that 3 inch gap in the bottom of there suit
3 -Big boobs are a gift, a well worn thong is magical
• When vacationing taking local transportation is the only way to go
• DO NOT under any circumstances accept free tequila from the old woman under the bridge
• Ray Mysterio masks can be purchased in 13 sizes and 56 different colors
• Silent farts are still stinky even on a beautiful beach
• For an extra $20 you can play with baby tigers……um YES PLEASE
*Just sign on this line, don’t worry about what the 3 previous pages of documentation, in Spanish. I’m sure you are in good hands and that this activity is insured
• Why does this handcrafted wooden bowl that I just demanded you to throw in with my children’s “vacation gift” not have a filter hole….WTF man!
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Friday, March 09, 2012
This is my Friday night. After a 60+ hour work week, a Friday night weekend stayover in Springfield, MO, this is what happens. A few Makers Mark on the rocks at the Doubletree lobby Houlihans and some dinner, then I walk out with a bottle of wine, courtesy of my expense account. I now lay in bed drinking wine out of a paper Wolfgang Puck coffee cup. This, my friends, is what I do.
As a side note, there is a teenage girls sports team (I am guessing volleyball?) roaming/running/yelling up and down the halls of the executive level hotel top floor. I do not know why they are allowed up here or who they could be with, but they will soon get a middle aged, shirtless, tiny man yelling at them from a doorway to shut the fuck up.
Thursday, March 08, 2012
Monday, March 05, 2012
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Monday, February 27, 2012
like or not. im due for some criticism and short on the witticism.
am i indigent
or when does print
wash away like cement
once princely time returned poetry
to history
as iliad and odyssey
i turned earnest faces
with my crackerjack popgun
covet beard and shotgun
seemed funny i caught his fish
and not his fist or two measly sense
temper one's tantrum
but so did he dense
as theory big bing bang
we query trekie recce
sega genesis sagan
hawking prophecy
pictured dorian aubrey
de gray and
if telomere raise
will we save human race
old earth will maintain
inspector deck gadgets
gizmos cartoon rascal rabbit
wu-tang bee tibetan inhabit
collectively karmic focus
choked hold stood fast saluted flag meritorious mast shot
himself bourbon isms
pharmagarchy pawns pilled pumped
the no nose brain bump
peruvian caine hump
third world warred
hurled by margins
formaldehyde preserve profits
cadavers smelt awfully parallel to facin facts
parables portend mycean media spin
disable the pen its dark aged again
wars make make monks men
apes monkied in made music win
big nixon grin peaces of tin men
in spite of self
sans sin
sam's sapiens
spin
sultry stories
again and again
locked cocked woodstocked
unstopped by viet then
flintlock
minie ball
civil as krakatoa
clack billionth rusky stock
ak-47
when
the bells did toll
his pen would tell
that suns rise tomorrow
or in a mile while
they act citizen cope
boast audacious hope
relatively distant
pope came to cuba
brought shotgun bazooka
gum disguised
causes health faired
guerila guevara medicines flaunted
brutality battlin raged machines
let fear kill minds
load magazines
sudden shots
snap crackle kellog
krafts commodity chlorinely clean
hydro oxy gene
from alps bpa bottled
tragically long term study retrospective absentee
we got technology but dumb math psychology
electric circuitry massive capacitance
attacked maxwell's planck
inductive retroact electromagna cum laude
nestle cleaned shout clothes clean
tom gonna bring
shoes to kids feet
who'd hardened already
tax ready african safari
sharp soccer shot heavy
why leave the serengetti
monopolized beached balanced
and happy
slash burned the adobe
cropped police
greeks gassed by unions
clauses from swiss bankin
berner mit teufflehunden
roman mastiff turned rotty
snoop did doggy doggy
legions twenty year tallies
spanish hannibal rallies
osh kosh sausage harley
from third day advent
creasy's fix
turin's cloth
jesus walks
flip flops
and third reich
did kristallnacht
but paul pope's gray lock's
sure shots beastie boy
turned talion ghetto jews
were too few
warrior trippin round fascists
did i put down the crap lid
ashious masses
but now makes catholics cast eyes
guised by colored smoke great white hope
ashes to ashes that prophetic crassless
but back to the lecture at hands
washed clean like ponchatrain or pontius pylats
had no choice
feared not
phalanxed
hemlocked
dawkins designs allegory
crucifixion gory
but stick to sam
some muslim noise
some write choose to choice
wicked choices repeat
no consequences
learned andy rooney
angry rumpled croonies
tried to keep ferris from
hoolie sick skippin skools
eighties trips
windy city dino ferrari
but back to the future curves
veiled conscious herds
mooed occupy
their pasture we're hardly in the clear yosemit
eeeeeee
sam silenced semite then datelined him
spawned pacific colony
geopolitic disastrous nanking tragic
rape outcome disastrous
old philosophical pharisees
old hypocrite heresies
burned at stakes
vivid imagery
turn back the tick clock
or tune into some 'stein
quantum spin
amalgam chomsky delight
words ala chagrin
god equals love
why keep it in
do some atticus finches
instead of crombie n bitches
no room for a coward
harbor the meek
hormuz to sleep
divserisfy genes dont inbreed
mengele boys flew brazilian choice
melt color like crayon
forge souls into zion.
-stay raw, stay real.
am i indigent
or when does print
wash away like cement
once princely time returned poetry
to history
as iliad and odyssey
i turned earnest faces
with my crackerjack popgun
covet beard and shotgun
seemed funny i caught his fish
and not his fist or two measly sense
temper one's tantrum
but so did he dense
as theory big bing bang
we query trekie recce
sega genesis sagan
hawking prophecy
pictured dorian aubrey
de gray and
if telomere raise
will we save human race
old earth will maintain
inspector deck gadgets
gizmos cartoon rascal rabbit
wu-tang bee tibetan inhabit
collectively karmic focus
choked hold stood fast saluted flag meritorious mast shot
himself bourbon isms
pharmagarchy pawns pilled pumped
the no nose brain bump
peruvian caine hump
third world warred
hurled by margins
formaldehyde preserve profits
cadavers smelt awfully parallel to facin facts
parables portend mycean media spin
disable the pen its dark aged again
wars make make monks men
apes monkied in made music win
big nixon grin peaces of tin men
in spite of self
sans sin
sam's sapiens
spin
sultry stories
again and again
locked cocked woodstocked
unstopped by viet then
flintlock
minie ball
civil as krakatoa
clack billionth rusky stock
ak-47
when
the bells did toll
his pen would tell
that suns rise tomorrow
or in a mile while
they act citizen cope
boast audacious hope
relatively distant
pope came to cuba
brought shotgun bazooka
gum disguised
causes health faired
guerila guevara medicines flaunted
brutality battlin raged machines
let fear kill minds
load magazines
sudden shots
snap crackle kellog
krafts commodity chlorinely clean
hydro oxy gene
from alps bpa bottled
tragically long term study retrospective absentee
we got technology but dumb math psychology
electric circuitry massive capacitance
attacked maxwell's planck
inductive retroact electromagna cum laude
nestle cleaned shout clothes clean
tom gonna bring
shoes to kids feet
who'd hardened already
tax ready african safari
sharp soccer shot heavy
why leave the serengetti
monopolized beached balanced
and happy
slash burned the adobe
cropped police
greeks gassed by unions
clauses from swiss bankin
berner mit teufflehunden
roman mastiff turned rotty
snoop did doggy doggy
legions twenty year tallies
spanish hannibal rallies
osh kosh sausage harley
from third day advent
creasy's fix
turin's cloth
jesus walks
flip flops
and third reich
did kristallnacht
but paul pope's gray lock's
sure shots beastie boy
turned talion ghetto jews
were too few
warrior trippin round fascists
did i put down the crap lid
ashious masses
but now makes catholics cast eyes
guised by colored smoke great white hope
ashes to ashes that prophetic crassless
but back to the lecture at hands
washed clean like ponchatrain or pontius pylats
had no choice
feared not
phalanxed
hemlocked
dawkins designs allegory
crucifixion gory
but stick to sam
some muslim noise
some write choose to choice
wicked choices repeat
no consequences
learned andy rooney
angry rumpled croonies
tried to keep ferris from
hoolie sick skippin skools
eighties trips
windy city dino ferrari
but back to the future curves
veiled conscious herds
mooed occupy
their pasture we're hardly in the clear yosemit
eeeeeee
sam silenced semite then datelined him
spawned pacific colony
geopolitic disastrous nanking tragic
rape outcome disastrous
old philosophical pharisees
old hypocrite heresies
burned at stakes
vivid imagery
turn back the tick clock
or tune into some 'stein
quantum spin
amalgam chomsky delight
words ala chagrin
god equals love
why keep it in
do some atticus finches
instead of crombie n bitches
no room for a coward
harbor the meek
hormuz to sleep
divserisfy genes dont inbreed
mengele boys flew brazilian choice
melt color like crayon
forge souls into zion.
-stay raw, stay real.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Friday, February 10, 2012
Thursday, February 09, 2012
Monday, February 06, 2012
Why you should come to Costa Rica, part 7
Some of these bands are awesome, some are terrible (LMFAO is the worst band in the world it appears) but, for all of these bands to be coming to Costa Rica on March 24-25 is pretty insane. It's Central American lollapalooza baby, and I can get us free tickets. (Or a 4-bananas off discount)Also, went paragliding last weekend. Jumped off mountain, flying over volcano, weeeheee, lunch, ride home, $60.
Last - Lucas, Reed, Belanger and company came down to CR for McGovern's wedding last month. Rented a mansion with an infinity pool that came with cleaning lady, food provided, and view of the ocean for $500/night. Ten people stayed there, so $50/night. Found flights for like $275.
Been here 2.5 years and will be here at least one more. Butz, Brown and Miller are intelligent friends. For the rest of you to pass up the opportunity to come visit is just fucking dumb. You live in 'Merica. You can afford this.
Sunday, February 05, 2012
Wednesday, February 01, 2012
THE 2011 POST OF THE YEAR
WINNER
and
I was at a party last night. I was talking with my wife, her friend Lynn and a guy who recently got engaged to one of their friends. They were asking him about the proposal. He said, "When I proposed her blue eyes turned almost pink. It was beautiful. It looked like a sunset." Lynn melted, Piper said "awwww," and I just stared blankly at him. I feel his behavior was unbefitting of a man.
Am I wrong?
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Interview with a Cardigan
And, yes, Ned Hibbard is smarter, classier and a better reporter than Adam Williams.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
The 2011 Post of the Year
Create your free online surveys with SurveyMonkey, the world's leading questionnaire tool.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Friday, January 20, 2012
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Saturday, January 07, 2012
Thursday, January 05, 2012
Tuesday, January 03, 2012
Friday, December 30, 2011
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Friday, December 09, 2011
Thursday, December 08, 2011
Tuesday, December 06, 2011
i'd never given musicals more than flashing homo-erotic thought, and then i fell in love with one as i concurrently fell in love with someone... im sure most of you have heard of swell season, or once, swell's musical adaptation of a theme all too relevant, all too prevalent. but if youve not had the pleasure of once, it ranks as one of the best ways you could spend an evening with the one you love. i need reminders like this one to drown me in humility and compassion, to remind me of what's important. glen hansard sings from the depths of his soul, or his diaphragm at least, without pretense, revealing more than truth. i was and am still am in awe at the night once hushed internal howling long enough that i would hear purity flow through passion, gracing and soaking my twisted notions in simple prosaic strophe and stanza intended to soften loveless hearts. pain rivaling torture a la internment camp, that of masochists, passes preciously and purposefully away in this portrait of love lost... of love realized. love is real, but it is squandered sharply if suffocated by its' nemeses... tonight i pray for sweet rapture, that which would undo strife, rein in temerity and hush creeping tempest, returning me to a time when i knew no better than to love like a child. swell season's revelations abound... the following reveals how to let go like a man, as little as i am one. rambling...
Friday, December 02, 2011
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
We Are the One Per Centby John Kenney
November 28, 2011
Average wealth of the top 1 percent was almost $14 million in 2009, according to a 2011 report from the Economic Policy Institute.
—Washingtonpost.com.
“Shit is fucked up and bullshit.”
—Sign seen at the Occupy Wall Street protest in lower Manhattan.
We, too, have mobilized.
We come from near and far, by any means necessary, some on private jets, others on extremely large private jets.
But you will not find us sleeping in a park and waiting in line at a Burger King to urinate. Have you heard of Mustique? Because that’s where we have mobilized. Don’t bother trying to Google Earth us, though, because we have proprietary military software that prevents you from doing so.
Our numbers may be smaller than those demonstrating in New York and other cities, but we are still a movement, coalesced around a cause, sleeping two and sometimes three people to a villa.
Perhaps you are wondering what our cause is. Perhaps you’re wondering why we, the richest people on the planet, have come together. Perhaps you’re curious whether what we’re undertaking couldn’t technically be called a vacation. These are all good questions.
We’re angry. We’re angry at something we’re calling “imagined frustration.” By this we mean that, except for Congress, the White House, banks, major lobbyists, and the editorial boards of Fox News and the Wall Street Journal, no one is listening to us. And we’re tired of it.
You claim to know something about us. You think we are rich beyond comprehension, that we can do anything we please at any time, go anywhere we want at a moment’s notice, wander the earth in a state of constant bliss, enjoying abundant and fabulous sex. Perhaps you do know us.
There are those in the more liberal press who have questioned whether the wealthiest one per cent truly understand how difficult life is for so many Americans right now, and to that we would say— Oh, look, someone just brought in lobster and a Bollinger Grande Année.
Except for money and the almost unnatural flawlessness of my skin, we are no different, you and I. I don’t know who you are or what you look like or how much money you have in the bank. Nor does it matter. Because we’re just men. Unless you are a woman. Or a child. Or a pony. But ponies don’t read magazines, do they? Unless they’re precocious ponies, like Mister Ed. And he wasn’t real. But I think you get my point. And that is: we are the same, except for the coarseness of the skin on your elbows. Do you know that feeling, upon waking at 4 A.M., heart racing, your mind looking twenty, thirty years down the road, wondering how you are going to make ends meet? Worrying about what would happen if you lost your job, asking yourself how you’re going to pay for your kids’ college or retire? Well, I don’t. But I read a story about it once and remember thinking, I’m so glad that’s not me.
from the issuecartoon banke-mail this.What do we want?
Here is our manifesto, still very much a work in progress, as it’s cocktail hour and several of our protesters are out at the pool:
—All wealth should be shared equally among the wealthy.
—Eradicate poverty. (Note: Maybe a clearer way to say this would be “Eradicate the poor.” Need to discuss.)
—End business as usual. (Note: Several members like the sound of this, but they don’t know what it means. A suggestion has been made to add the word “hours” after “business.”)
—Implement a rule whereby the public cannot look at us and must keep a distance of at least twenty feet at all times.
Yes, I have more things—more homes and cars and planes and art and underground passages and satellites and private militias and a person whose only job is to grow hair that is genetically identical to my own. But when you take off your pants and I take off my pants and we stand facing each other as naked as the day we were born, except for socks, all I would ask is that you feel my skin and tell me it’s not the softest skin you’ve ever felt on a man. And also realize that we are the same, except for the fact that I have four submarines.
Shit is fucked up and bullshit.
We agree.
Except that we would substitute “money” for “shit,” “awesome” for “fucked up,” and “squash courts” for “bullshit,” and add the words “cannot be used for more than ninety minutes. Please respect club rules. Thank you.” ♦
Read more http://www.newyorker.com/humor/2011/11/28/111128sh_shouts_kenney#ixzz1eVJQ8xPt
November 28, 2011
Average wealth of the top 1 percent was almost $14 million in 2009, according to a 2011 report from the Economic Policy Institute.
—Washingtonpost.com.
“Shit is fucked up and bullshit.”
—Sign seen at the Occupy Wall Street protest in lower Manhattan.
We, too, have mobilized.
We come from near and far, by any means necessary, some on private jets, others on extremely large private jets.
But you will not find us sleeping in a park and waiting in line at a Burger King to urinate. Have you heard of Mustique? Because that’s where we have mobilized. Don’t bother trying to Google Earth us, though, because we have proprietary military software that prevents you from doing so.
Our numbers may be smaller than those demonstrating in New York and other cities, but we are still a movement, coalesced around a cause, sleeping two and sometimes three people to a villa.
Perhaps you are wondering what our cause is. Perhaps you’re wondering why we, the richest people on the planet, have come together. Perhaps you’re curious whether what we’re undertaking couldn’t technically be called a vacation. These are all good questions.
We’re angry. We’re angry at something we’re calling “imagined frustration.” By this we mean that, except for Congress, the White House, banks, major lobbyists, and the editorial boards of Fox News and the Wall Street Journal, no one is listening to us. And we’re tired of it.
You claim to know something about us. You think we are rich beyond comprehension, that we can do anything we please at any time, go anywhere we want at a moment’s notice, wander the earth in a state of constant bliss, enjoying abundant and fabulous sex. Perhaps you do know us.
There are those in the more liberal press who have questioned whether the wealthiest one per cent truly understand how difficult life is for so many Americans right now, and to that we would say— Oh, look, someone just brought in lobster and a Bollinger Grande Année.
Except for money and the almost unnatural flawlessness of my skin, we are no different, you and I. I don’t know who you are or what you look like or how much money you have in the bank. Nor does it matter. Because we’re just men. Unless you are a woman. Or a child. Or a pony. But ponies don’t read magazines, do they? Unless they’re precocious ponies, like Mister Ed. And he wasn’t real. But I think you get my point. And that is: we are the same, except for the coarseness of the skin on your elbows. Do you know that feeling, upon waking at 4 A.M., heart racing, your mind looking twenty, thirty years down the road, wondering how you are going to make ends meet? Worrying about what would happen if you lost your job, asking yourself how you’re going to pay for your kids’ college or retire? Well, I don’t. But I read a story about it once and remember thinking, I’m so glad that’s not me.
from the issuecartoon banke-mail this.What do we want?
Here is our manifesto, still very much a work in progress, as it’s cocktail hour and several of our protesters are out at the pool:
—All wealth should be shared equally among the wealthy.
—Eradicate poverty. (Note: Maybe a clearer way to say this would be “Eradicate the poor.” Need to discuss.)
—End business as usual. (Note: Several members like the sound of this, but they don’t know what it means. A suggestion has been made to add the word “hours” after “business.”)
—Implement a rule whereby the public cannot look at us and must keep a distance of at least twenty feet at all times.
Yes, I have more things—more homes and cars and planes and art and underground passages and satellites and private militias and a person whose only job is to grow hair that is genetically identical to my own. But when you take off your pants and I take off my pants and we stand facing each other as naked as the day we were born, except for socks, all I would ask is that you feel my skin and tell me it’s not the softest skin you’ve ever felt on a man. And also realize that we are the same, except for the fact that I have four submarines.
Shit is fucked up and bullshit.
We agree.
Except that we would substitute “money” for “shit,” “awesome” for “fucked up,” and “squash courts” for “bullshit,” and add the words “cannot be used for more than ninety minutes. Please respect club rules. Thank you.” ♦
Read more http://www.newyorker.com/humor/2011/11/28/111128sh_shouts_kenney#ixzz1eVJQ8xPt
Monday, November 14, 2011
Thursday, November 10, 2011
For those of you who remember (not me).
http://southwestconference.bigcartel.com/ |
Wednesday, November 09, 2011
Tuesday, November 08, 2011
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