Amnesty’s Hangover

Did you know that yesterday was do pass go, do collect a click all day?

Yes, you say?

Tho’ I think I’d go w/ Perpetual Change, We Have Heaven is a fine example of a best of something ever, yes, no indifferent, and when you’re tripping, who says they aren’t both ever best of yes.

Would were it be…

And though I just love a poem with an incidental Roswell reference, when I think of yesterdays, I relate to days before, just days ago.  Remember when you popped a can as much for to do something with your hands as spill swill mildly acidic upon the acid that says, “I don’t want this.”  If the fun weren’t so traumatizing, I’d return to it every day.

And do you remember when this guy was within the pale of becoming a goat in the stead of being the GoaT?  Funny how the ball spins.

It takes a certain kind of guts to point out that even the arguments against torture are inherently corrupt, seriously a distraction in fact from the fact… as so often is the case when wading through such psycho shit…  that it’s simply wrong to do what we oh so like to do, and when we debate about it, it is oh so tediously torturous.

Apropos of nothing, save winter, the lack thereof, its return, and poetry, and motion, and giving clicks to the voice, anyberliner wanna play?

Remember Ferguson? Maybe it’s because there is no community, just a short term existence. I mean, fuckin’ A, right?

If you read here enough, you know I am partial to ripping on those whose community are wont to claim for my own (make sense of that if you will). Wingnuts and Nazi-brand Nazis are but low hanging fruit, even self-evidenter than the lesser enablers who are full of love for how much lesser enabling they do.  Oh they do!  But I ramble in my distraction, which reminds me why I started this paragraph: to quote a quip about these self-annointed lesser enablers, which, truth be told, is always almost left unsaid:

Shitting on America’s reprehensible past is acceptable among progressives, but only if it proves the point that America is capable of becoming more just, more equitable; only when it buttresses the story of America coming ever closer to its mythological ideals and the stories which it tells about itself and its white people.

Gots to click to read the whole thing. Come on, now. Don’t miss the point of this exercise, which is why they open in a new window.  You can come on back, or open them all as you read through, and read ’em at the end.

Do this just once and you get an acuter appreciation for the kinder BLCKDGRDes of the wwworld.  Me, I was always worried about diminishing returns.  Well, BLCKDGRD pulls and pastes them so you don’t have to scroll, necessarily, though BLCKDGRD’ll remind you they’re there.  Their there is there.  You know, in the sidebar. Read them. That’s the point of this exercise.

Do you read them as you go, or wait ’til the end?  Or have you already given up? Me? I recommend doing them one at a time if your computer slows up.

Also, if you’ve read me of late, or know me at all, or just know Jack, you Gno how I tend, so many still land here through The Crow’s Eye (it’s clear it is being checked and used as a goto) though Crow no longer updates; I choose not his latest, but this one on overlay.

First on the list of non-blogrolled linked links — that is, non-shamelessly reciprocation-ally link linking  (the shame is all mine, trust me) comes this buried analysis of a story about what went down in and around a place called Selma and what gets lost amidst all the talk about what was with it, wrong or right. Fuck LBJ. It’s just the continual killing of King for fuck’s sake. Oprah’s narrative ain’t helpin’ shit.

Look at Caldwell on Baraka on Jones and poems and think about your cultural address.

Digging deeper toward death, inching ever closer perhaps, or looking at it all around you, how could you not wanna ask?

He just came in and told me, the new Friedrichshain calendar is around the corner.  I had assumed since my bookstore had closed, and I was late to the game of finding a new source, that I’d missed out this time.  Maybe I’ll get one and continue the series (viewable by you by clicking on Friedrichshain-Vergleiche in the side column).  Until then, from him, newer camera, newerer pictures.

And a once reciprocal no longer
since he killed his old to public purview.
Would you believe that it was longer
than any other responsible
for most of th’times people’ve clicked through?
It’s true.
I won’t betray it’s name, for he’d seem
to’ve opted to pull that connection.
For the record, I thought
that mystery of an aesthetic certain.
Due to his opting, of new, to word schemery, this comes with a WARNING: No verse!

And though, what’s the point of a general link to someone else, who may’ve moved, I don’t like to think, to get away from the likes of me? No matter, I spun his music many a month at my deejay gig, also dead. And he’s the only one of whom I’m aware who name-checked my fake twat, made one in his own image, if only just unlike.

Did you know that Hollywood didn’t begin with the CIA? They got a longer history than that, if only barely and this is just an excuse to link to Alex Cox.

There’s still more in the sidebar. Always more, with the newest at the top.  Check tomorrow.  Or the next day.  Or never.  But they might take the Internet away.

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