Reality Based Community

Life in the Empire

We don't need another / a new discussion to prove it.

It is as it is.

Let this "fred" (discussion thread) live under the theme .......

long live this family

brothers, sisters, brethern, dogs, cats and birds, ants and flees, water and air and gas and Clare and Jim and him and the window Simm (??) and you and me and he and she and we and them and us and puss (???) and fish and the dish (it's on) and paper and pen.

Yip.

Views: 7011

Reply to This

Replies to This Discussion

Here's to ya brother Curt.  We'll soon all be fucking heroes.    

Ho Chi Angel  
Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone?"  -- Uncle Matt   
 
Angelique was a bartender at the Banana Bar in DaNang.  She was beautiful, spoke French, and at least ten years older than Beanie.  Col. Canyon USAF was her number one boyfriend, a full bird Colonel and handsome comic strip hero.  Almost a General.  Of course his real name was not Steve Canyon.  Beanie's boys just called him that and said ol Beanfield Hank just kissin Steve Canyon butt cos Jenny got his yellow wings.  Jenny was an officers' toy.  Nevertheless, Beanie had to fly her in earnest to spot for artillery and F4 Phantom jets and all the other shitbirds who wanted to drop ordinance on Charlie... and Charlie was everywhere because he lived there.  Shitbirds dropped their ordinance, punched their tickets, and went home to be a fucking hero.  Not Beanie.  He will be judged, and with the measure shitbirds used, it will be measured to the grunts along Highway 101.  
 
Boom blam thank you Nam.  Singed agent orange napalm raised shit burning eyebrows for the boys shot off deuce Annie half trucks and jungle rotting in wet stink holes counting the days.   Beanie missed all that.  Instead he was bragging and boasting to all the other shitbirds in the Banana Bar about how easy it was to get in and out of indian country because he visited all the gooks on his gook bike on his days off to buy their stuff with (everybody did it in Babara) real US greenbacks and not Amy Shitpaper.  That's when fool-ass Beanie rushed in where Angel feared to tread.  She had not seen her father nor their family farm for over ten old long years. Beanie said he could get her there tomorrow and the shitbirds whooted and whistled and laid down their bets.  Beanie was up all night studying charts... just in case Beanie's killers let her get  near the flight line or Jenny or his little grass shack on the sand.  
 
Can you see by the dawn's early light?  Angel was praying to the jade emperor, her Heavenly Grandfather.  Nipper (an M3 machine pistol) hung around Beanie's neck (as usual), and Angel said he would not need it, so Beanie left it on the ground as a message for the boys.  Low-hanging fruit.  Flying under red clouds below 500 AGL for three hours while Angel sang headset geomancy songs and Charlie waved below and there were horses and lunch and everyone spoke perfect English. Polite exchanges about the manifesto and Uncle Ho after canapes and tea and runway lights in the Amber Sunset.  Angel slipped into black silk night and was gone to be there later with the pot from the jet jocks and chopper chumps and condingly flummoxed spooks.   Major Jack said don't do it again and if you do don't tell me about it.  Beanie heard it happened long after he got home.   
 
Steve Canyon was blown apart hotdogging over Hanoi.  And now he's a fucking hero.     

For Your Service   

But it's written in the starlight
And every line in your palm
We are fools to make war
On our brothers in arms   -- Dire Straits    

So the next time some silly young yak says, "...thank you for your service," think of Ho Chi Angel.  Please. Her mist covered mountains are home to her spirit still.  She served drinks and smiles and we delivered death from above. Jenny's yellow wings marked our place beneath the sky, scarce heard amid the guns below. We shall not sleep.  Bad dreams for all of us. Please tell them we didn't serve anything.  We killed people. Still are.  So we can keep believing lies we tell ourselves every day.  Land of the free and home of the brave instead of a chicken shit police state filled with homeless peasants.  That our elections are real and make a difference as we board cattle cars bound for oblivion.  They did this in Germany.   

Maybe that’s for the best.    

       

Buddernaught Dreams   

"If you think a few dozen people reliably showing up every time the police show up to try to evict someone couldn’t possibly work, think again."   

Only recognize Buddy for sure on his blue blanket with stubby back legs.  His wincible disability.  But it's a big part of what made Buddy the Buddernaught.  Frodo was more like the big brother I never had.  I would carry Frodo's smiling bear-head picture in my wallet if I still carried a wallet.  Which brings me to the most uncomfortable subject of money.  Hate that shit.  Always have.  Loved the stuff it could buy though.  Librettists sometimes find work.  Doesn't pay much.  Jenny was more than a lifetime of tin-cup exhaust from rattling out tin pan alley.  My Jenny has yellow wings.  She brought smiles everywhere.  The dogs loved her.  Dogs who barked at bicycles wagged their tails for Jenny (and me).  Sniffed my knuckles and snuffed a wet hello loud in my ear.  Sniffed Jenny's back wheels and told the world I was ok.  Nothing was afraid of me.  And the things I feared most- like heavy high speed traffic- rolled by like water for a duck.  

Once I chased the bicycle cops on a tactical urban exercise running through crowds of parked cars and such.  They had no idea Jenny and I were chasing them.  There was nothing that could chase them (before drones, etc.).  Not even dogs.  But a weak-ass old man with emphysema balance problems and bad vision could watch the buff young tac mercs with all their black kevlar kanoodle huff and blow rattling toward the crime scene.  That was 911.  But everybody forgot about that.  Except Jenny and me.  Jenny was the Indian pony who took me where me see what my saw.  Then the fat kid steps off while you're climbing out and you come down hard enough to break your teeth.  Seesaw.  Get it.  I'm tired of this.  You get it.  You do.  No?  Does audience optimized framing have anything to do with trust or money or modern monetary theory?  Buddy probably never thought of his back paws... missing since puppyhood.  He was happy to bask in your company like sunshine. 
  
Trapdoor John's fading rays shadow Jubal's early boys filing past the XI Corps german lads...  in seemingly opposite directions and another weird meteor time shrieking sky falling twins and rising ghosts.  And we gruff woof doggie dreams and dogs seldom wonder what we dream.  They can smell the future. Sirius as the brightest star in the night sky. They can.  We plan.  Scents and dollars and sense to some cornfield virus whiffling up an Antietam creek thermite long ago rusted as an iron brigade. I came to believe Buddy could even smell sunlight.  But I know he had dreams.  So did Melville.  He probably wasn't such a nice guy to live with either.  But Buddy was.  And sometimes I would rather have Buddy's dreams than Melville's.  Because if there is a rainbow bridge, I would be a troll beneath it entertaining children in books about Captain Jack.  But I made a promise to my friends.  Be kind, says your book. Kinda.  Maybe see Frodo and Jenny on the other side.  
I never saw a dime from their sale.    

Raven Mountain  

This that find some inspiration this that crack the instillation
This that quantum jump and fist pump and that bomb detonation
-- Lemar   

Raven Rock Mountain is adjacent to Jacks Mountain on the north while Miney Branch flows west-to-east between them in the Potomac River Watershed.  

Not sure if you meant to post the Flying Lotus video, but I sure do like it. Raven Mountain? Good to know government evil might survive armagedden. They can have whatever's left. Fine with me.

thought bro p might dig the choreography

I'm confused about where everyone is living these days. We're still in Moline. Frigging cold. Below zero. I don't think moline has moved but I couldn't swear to it.

Hey, we had nine inches of snow in Seattle yesterday. Very pretty. It was like staying at a lodge up in the mountains. Back to above freezing now and everything turning to slush.

Don't think I've ever experienced below zero cold. Don't think my old man balls could deal with it.

Saw this bit of news and was wondering how pandemic stricken Americans were going to pay their heating bills. Don't they ever plan for these future events? Dumb question. Disaster capitalism strikes again.

"Natural Gas Intelligence on Friday reported that Midcontinent spot prices soared to as high as $600 per million British thermal units, with transactions at an Oklahoma trading hub all topping $125 after starting the week at around $3."

Tallahassee for another 3 years. Jo got a sabbatical for next year - has an application for a Fulbright in Malta Spring 2022 - hopefully she gets that and the virus is controlled enough to let us travel. We bought a pick-up truck and are getting it kitted out for camping with a topper and a sleeping platform for when it is too rainy to tent it. Hoping to take long camping trip(s) this summer and Fall.

the top 10% that still believes kabuki tv government are bickering w(h)(eat)her the peasants should only eat each other or starve naturally.  Downtown here in Duckburg's cracker ghetto looks like deep snowfall coming down nor'easter and then melt and flooding and freeze wobbling either of water extremes and must get into assisted living cos never learned to feed myself and lease expires in April.  Fin de power lines etc et al    

The water problem- in Florida... in South Africa... (surely not in East Anglia)...  what is happening to you guys?  

Our water in Tallahassee is much better than further south and meets the federal guidelines.  We also have a charcoal filter to get rid of some of the contaminants - though reverse osmosis would be better.

RSS

© 2024   Created by waldopaper.   Powered by

Report an Issue  |  Terms of Service