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God i hope it's not a "permanent" sleep. You never know these days. But in any case- you can see why all dogs go to heaven.
1/26/03 Goodbye, Mr. Mauldin Sir.
It's a sad story- in a world full of sad stories: the passing of Bill Mauldin, "the greatest cartoonist of WWII." I won't bore you with the details of how much this man's work influenced my life. Undecided on what link to give you, I decided on this one:
http://www.toonopedia.com/upfront.htm
because it shows the cover of his BOOK: it was one of the best I've ever read. It still is. I could never hope to draw like he did (I TRIED). But swore one day I would be able to WRITE as well. No, it's not "great literature." But it helped a little boy learn to read- because he wanted to understand the drawings- and his Old Man. Here's a passage from page 58:
I've lost friends who were ordinary people and just wanted to live and raise a family and pay their taxes and cuss the politicians. I've also lost friends who had brilliant futures. Gregor Duncan, one of the finest and most promising artists I've ever known, was killed at Anzio while making sketches for Stars and Stripes. It's a pretty tough kick in the stomach when you realize what people like Greg could have done if they had lived. It's one of the costs of the war we don't often consider.
Those thoughts are deep in us, and we don't talk about them much.
Now 'scuse me. I gotta go work offa debt I owe ta Willie an Joe. An thanks, Mr. Mauldin. Sir.
To Feminists in 2021
Bonedigger, Bonedigger
Dogs in the moonlight
Far away in my well-lit door
Competence in the 19th Century was an income large enough to live on, (typically unearned, as in “he found himself with an ample competence and no obligations”). Later, competence became the ability to do something successfully or efficiently, like when we became human resources and competence was just doing our job. Somewhere back there we were still personnel and not citizens or customers. But this is the US in 1863. Dilger recognized the Dutchman’s wagon in front of Dowdall’s Tavern. Whole goddam rebel army coming this way, Dilger remarked in passing. I know, answered Indian pony with Dutchman’s voice. That was at Chancellorsville. Dilger rode off to tend to his artillery battery and Henry headed for Port Royal to tend to his patrons. A fight was about to begin, and Dilger forgot about Henry’s wagon.
H.V. Hess Lock Smith said the black wagon in thin gothic letters, like the letters found in a black Anabaptist bible. A tinker’s wagon of modest Pennsylvania Dutch black. Like Queen Victoria’s mourning dress. Like Dilger’s artillery and Henry’s wagon, both young men were competent at playing their respective instruments, but Henry and Dilger didn’t get to jam until Gettysburg. The Bureau of Military Information was supposed to be General Hooker’s idea. The Dutchman was a friend of General Schurz, and that’s all Dilger knew at Chancellorsville. Dilger moved cannons, and Henry moved capital. Spycraft was old as prostitution, and the letters on the Dutchman’s wagon were painted in gold. Henry’s business was now fast packet boats to run the great rivers upstream, his dock in Norfolk, machine shop in Harrisburg, and especially the theatre company.
Henry and the wagon were captured fair and square. General Early was in Frederiksberg, and old JJ Pettigrew would accept Henry’s fine Zeiss lenses (binoculars and telescopes) as well as other exotic gadgets as gifts (not bribes) of foreign goodwill … from some Hessian timber baron. Descended from Landsknecht mercenaries, competence kept Henry alive for a thousand years.
Call me Henry, the Dutchman advised Captain Dilger on 1 July 1863. Macht es gut.
Well- how about this: somebody is trying to cull the human population. Whether that's a good idea or not is up to you. But you can safely betcher ass that whoever is doing the culling is not including themselves in the equation. Marianne Williamson probably knows, but she aint sayin.
I like his presentation. But with the US currently invading its own population, where's mention of that? Let me know if he gets around to it.
He doesn't. It's implied. Think about it. Gomer has a ton of gunz and ammo. He's coming for your liberal ass for whatever reason. But you got yer BirdyBob© Drone Group. About a dozen of them smeggers about the size of a sparrow but when they hit a window, a whole stick-built wall is gone. Before Gomer mounts up his posse, you've had a BirdyBob on a pole outside Gomer and Merle and Willie's (in three seperate states) house charging on the power lines and biding their time. No invasion necessary. You can deal with right on your screen. Unless someone ice-picks you. Can'tcha just feel the moonshine.
That's why youth and talent are usually overcome by age and treachery.
And there it is. The usual gate gaper gab goes on into oblivion. Reality is: three people got as much clout as the bottom half of US poors. And we aint diggin it.
"Unless and until everyday people break free of the programming, there will be more experimental drugs, more invasive technologies, more surveillance, more artificial intelligence, and more transhumanism. You’ll never stop lining up to be scanned, injected, genetically modified, and “enhanced.” There is only one hope and one path away from this dystopian future vision: rediscover the subversive of thinking for yourself."
Reality is becoming mainstream. Somewhere.
Been off the grid, boondocking in the F150 for the past month. Finally read David Harvey's "A Brief History of Neoliberalism" - his central thesis that the only reason for the economic project has been class warfare to re-establish gilded age power for the elite is hard to refute.
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