http://www.nydailynews.com/sports/baseball/mets/2009/05/31/2009-05-31_john_maine_mets_survive_stomach.html

and

http://www.mediabistro.com/fishbowlny/media_companies/swine_flu_hits_conde_nast_as_newhouse_profile_hits_newsstands_117789.asp

OM NOM NOM EVERYBODY PANIC!

the worst castles
are the best castles
they stand tall & proud
on the shoulders & backs
of the iconoclasts who built them

i’m not talking ’bout no
aristocracy
that grotesque teabag sideshow act

this is for the remnant ruminants
this is for those who are
on the hook
castled with
a scottish rook
en passant by the duke of earl of sandwich board Lord Hoard
strung up and down and out
dangling feet
first
from a tapestry cord
you are free to go my lord
dismissed with a
pacifist fist
a pitchfork in the mist and smoke
of a torch that lights the way,
if I may,
to a mutual
free’dom’nation
versive submission
supine cursive subjugate geishas
cut-rate prostrate nerf serfs
carried by a sinusoidal wave of
volatile volition
ablution
volution
evolution
revolution
convolution
dissolution
no solution
no end to your troubles
just because you flipped the table
over
did your chore
spun the revolving power door
(redblackredblackredblack red  black   red    black     red      black       red        black)
to even out the illusory score
one more time, we gotta celebrate
for plus ça change, plus ça―
nihil novi sub sole
nothing new under the sun, son
no need to fuss, gus
your are the food chain, boss
you are what you eat
one day you’re a jerk
one day you’re a molé
one day you’re a beast
and one day you’re full of pollack-sole
on the dole
fresh from a boxcar
(like) cheaply picked fruit
low hanging
easy pickings for charles dickens
in a panty twist of olive fate we call
progress

you put the con in congress
it’s all about cheap labour, you see
the more the merrier
the merrier the more
as long as you keep poppin’ out
desperate masses
into the lower classes
you will be the pope’s dope
and the rich man’s one and only hope
that you’ll break your back
and cough and hack
and lift and stack
line the rack
stretched from commonwealth sea
to shining commonwealth sea
you’re so gonna need the CPR
you the ever-patient patient
etherized upon your Emily Carr tableau
upon your Canadian Shield flatbed
gallopping over cardiac expansion joints

the empire buck starts and stops here
at these extreme points, you see
gets snuffed out (like)
a cracked downtown east side olympic torch here
here, in terminal city

but the castles start… here
in your chessboard’s corner
the desperation here so thick it’s sick
bad cologne of lonely hearts
without a club
or a rubber-sole band
you are free to take a hike
to snap
to beat
to bleed
to rag
to stop
drop
roll
a perfect strike
use pins
to drag
to slug
to trail
through sand
by hand
homeric stone bowling ball after ball
for the edifice hall o’
the exalted pharaoh master blaster
(whose barter-garter disposition’s never quite sunny, ya dig?)

but his overcast royal
alabaster dour
facade
smug smog mug
has got your goat
he’s got you by your throat
and he’s got you by your money, honey
so get busy, bee
no time to rant, ant
you have no voice
no choice
in the matter
move your feet
pitter patter!
pater noster
our father, who ain’t even here…

meanwhile, you… your life
is but a hail mary pass
do not pass
go
do not collect
any intellect
defect
at your own risk
tisk, tisk, tisk, this is not a board game
this is not over yet!
stay tuned!
subscribe to our low-ball offer
of your common dream
for mere pennies on the dollar ninety-nine!
all you have to do is reach out and
touch faith
fatten up for the slaughter
of your incense
get buffet buff
chow down on the supersized bod of zombie jesus
with corn-syrup bunny ears
and everything will be all right
child
this is not your life anyway
yours is the next one
this one’s for the human gods
in their safety pods
we call castles

there’s dragons in them tarred moats
no feathery light trebuchet speed boats
can cross it in time
the harder they come
the more apple wagon
rockers get vexed, hexed
next!
next!
next!
the doctor will see you now
about the lash gashes that zebra your back
back to work!
we have wind whistles to blow
we have castles to build
with the eternal, shifting flows of sands of time
through saharan eras
across peon aeons

it’ll be the best of castles
it’ll be the worst of castles

but you…

you will not be remembered.

simply gorgeous photoessay about the ruins of Detroit. click on image to enter…

Lee Plaza in Detroit

quick and easy instructions:

via: http://keepfightingprop8.ning.com/profiles/blogs/revoke-the-mormon-churchs-tax

If you’re angry that a church can meddle with another state’s political statutes, here’s something that you can do.

To report the LDS Church to the IRS, simply take 5 minutes to print these articles out and any others you can find:

http://www.sltrib.com/ci_10839546

http://www.sltrib.com/news/ci_10842051

Then print and fill out http://www.irs.gov/pub/irs-pdf/f3949a.pdf

List the taxpayer as:

Thomas S. Monson, et al
50 East North Temple
Salt Lake City, Utah 84150

List his occupation as President and the business as the ridiculously full name of the church (The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) at the same address.

Check the boxes for False Exemption and Public/Political Corruption.

Then in the Comments section demand that the LDS Church be fined and their tax-exempt status revoked for repeated and blatant violations of the IRS’s separation of church and state rules, and for conspiring to interfere with a state’s political process.

Check Yes under “Are books/records available?” and write in “campaign finance records.”

You don’t have to provide any of your own personal info.

Mail the form and the printed articles to:

Internal Revenue Service
Fresno, CA 93888

That’s it. Done. Poll’s closed. Book it.

freepers:

I would like to say: “Welcome back, America.”  A lot of us out here feel like Short Round must have felt right after Indiana Jones woke up from the Thuggee cult stupor in the Temple of Doom.

Welcome back.

]]> http://asocialstudies.wordpress.com/2008/11/05/a-few-thousand-words/feed/ 0 asocialstudies http://asocialstudies.wordpress.com/2008/11/04/obama-or-mccain-change-or-remove/ http://asocialstudies.wordpress.com/2008/11/04/obama-or-mccain-change-or-remove/#comments Wed, 05 Nov 2008 00:33:42 +0000 asocialstudies http://asocialstudies.wordpress.com/?p=529 ]]>

some Gmail LOLs, click on thumbnail to see full-sized:

the checkbox “Allow pages to choose their own fonts and colors” exists in Firefox options.  Firefox allows me to uncheck it, and i like seeing the world in Verdana… i do not see an obvious way to choose my own font (and enforce it) in Chrome.

also, the tabs at the top do not allow me to quickly resize the browser window by double-clicking the title bar… i guess i’ll have to change behaviours.  lame.

also, we got ourselves a lolgrammur typo on page 15 of the comic that explains what Google Chrome is all about:

i mean, seriously:

ADBLOCK PLUS

NOSCRIPT

DOWNTHEMALL

GREASEMONKEY

not unrelated to the post below:

purportedly by mehmeturgut on deviantart.

kinda cute:

UPDATE:

Leaves In The River by Sea Wolf lyrics say it much better than the whole original post below them did:

I met a girl on halloween
well she was lost and i was drunk
and it was dark and cold out when we left
and as we walked the rain started
the leaves I’ve felt
with every step and all around around us
people slept alone with their dreams

the wind came down from out the planes
and blew the leaves out through the streets
I wondered how far leaves could realy fly
would they rest in several yards
or make it to the city
or would they end up in the river just to float away

she pointed to a small brick house
and said it was where she grew up
the lights were out
she asked if we could stop for a while
her hair was still just getting wet
water running down her neck
collecting in the hand printed cement beneath her feet

apparently there had been a death
someone close had nothing left
because she hadn’t left him in the end

I saw her blush when I asked
if she always talked like that
she said it only happened when she drank
and later on I felt her hand slipping into my cold fist
she promised me a kiss as soon as we got home
her costume had begun to tear
she ran ahead and turned to me
her laughter echoed through the empty streets

__________________________________________________

ORIGINAL POST:

some nihilist, non-sequitur lines from some other time (clearly a time that sucked ass).

i think these lines need rearranging into a different order to make sense. read on and experience the inevitable nausea. (yay for uncontrollable nausea!)
_____________________________

i crossed that street some 3000 times last night,
curb to curb,
a caged, thrashing street rat-tat-tat (it’s not you, it’s me. i’m the cause of my own pain.)
pacing inside the winding, suffocating cuisinart haste-haste-haste

of ghoulish thoughts. of insiduous intent.
hang on tightly…

from star-search to soul-search.

if you knew even half the madness in the maze,
it would curdle your blood, fry your synapses.

nothing can give me what i need and want.
it doesn’t exist.
so i belong to it.
i belong to nothing.

i want nothing. sweet dreamful embrace of nothing.

you are like me, nothing,

belonging to nothing.

belonging to none.

i don’t want to catch mono again,

but here comes another hallowe’en mask
……………….running raw in the rain
perfectly fabulous outfit ruined.

a beautiful blonde dreadlocked drunk
angel appears out of the blue

and gives me an embrace.

another perfect timing ruined.

from nowhere and for nothing.

reading the ‘morning lovers’ coos
uttered right before the revelation
is the most painful thing.

and that ironic-more-ironic message sent

As It Happens

bushed, asleep on a salty pillow, eyes burning, witching hour.

_____________________________

i think this needs to go up on an LJ page or something. with some deviantArt thrown in to match. blech.

like a child overwhelmed
by the incense
flowers and devotion
emotion, wondering about
touching feeling
the marble’s cold gravity
the slabs of flowers
old tattered
new fresh, but dead anyway
narrow paths to negotiate
and understand

barely under stood
bare under ground
bare souls torn apart
love tears
per se and from each other
remembrance
tradition
connection
to a person is
to a place
beloved
must not let the reel run out
must not let the celluloid fade
must not let it fa
must not le
must no
must
a sentimental Polish romance film in a minor key

At 12, I walk
elsewhere now
—ggage in tow
a faint trailing accent
invisible minority
heavy guilt of disconnectedness
something dear now far

I fear I no longer comprise
a part
of the homogenous
40+ million
98% Catholic
99% Polish
memories
a tourist brochure

like a child left to discover
the beauty of non-attachment
her heart never able
to reassemble
to recapture the moment
to attach self to past
irrevocably
redefined

citizen of all nations
member of none

from now until All Saints day is going to be an eternity of madness.  here comes the science.

FRIDAY, 26 OCTOBER 2007
the SkyTrain party:

followed by Dubforms 5 done by the LIGHTA! crew), which is always a rocking all-nighter, with hot people, massive bass, and much dancing. ‘times.

SATURDAY, 27 OCTOBER 2007
Parade of the Lost Souls:

…followed by another all-nighter at Open Studios in the form of Deadbeats666 with world-class techno wizardry of Jeff Milligan AKA Algorithm:

SUNDAY, 28 OCTOBER 2007
sleep all day and all night and pick out outfit for…

MONDAY, 29 OCTOBER 2007
Dead Poet Slam @ Café Deux Soleils

I thought to myself, I know a bit of Prufrock thanks to Lauren, so I’ll get my tweed on and go as T.S. Eliot… until Barbara Adler said she’s going as him, so the quest for uniqueness continues. Erica Jong is not yet deceased, so that can’t work. Then, a flash:

You’d be surprised how many lesbians have never heard of their patron poet or of the adjective “sapphic”. Which is a shocker here, in Little Clitaly.

TUESDAY, 30 OCTOBER 2007
Zombies flash mob at Granville Island, 5pm to 6pm:

Now if i could only figure my way out of my various outfit crises:

This one:

…or this one:

…or…

And which outfit at which party?

Decisions.

Decisions.

yeah, exactly.

http://drvino.com/2007/03/26/bringing-closure-a-screwcap-cork-showdown/

kuba, you gotta do this when flossin’ up and down in your 5-series with the kids in the back:

before the Assignors of Canadian Postal Codes were aware of 1337-speak nuances, this postal code was assigned to the infinite void of Delta, the most musky of Lower Mainland municipalities:

(click your mousey mouse on the pic to enlarge.)

with the neatly-trimmed, triangular Boundary Bay Airport butting up against it, and surrounded by such poetic place names as Lulu Island, Tilbury Island, Barber Island, L’Isle De Jambon De L’Ouest (Westham Island), Watershed Park, and Mud Bay, it is essentially just Burns Bog with its ever-smoky, fragrant je ne sais quoi.

curiously, it is also the permanent residence to Johnson Industries, a logging company, among others:

nothing a little butter and tartar sauce can’t fix:

via NOAA’s ark, erm, website.

http://www.acm.org/sigs/sigplan/conferences/author-info/vanLeunenLipton.html