Post Debate #3 2016

Very nerdy guys everywhere are thankful that Nate Silver and Bill Gates
exist. oh let's not forget Einstein and Oppenheimer, they were uber strange cats too

Twenty days until the election. Twenty.
This is another watershed event. Monday we go vote early in Texas.
Game on. Spin the wheel and see what happens.
I

am just one I
tomorrow comes like a hope of a cooler breeze
after the sweaty gritty day of today

each of us spinning in our own circuits.

in this framework of what we call Now
can we find some common ground?

is there too much hate
wAs there ever enough?
is any too much?
can I reconcile myself with the Klan?
shall I own the trail of tears?

that was then and this is now
there is time and it goes forward
I know not where this wheel stopping comes
it keeps on rolling
I am here and now
in a moment of time
what shall be tomorrow I do not know
i am hoping it is better than today

wherein I ramble wide and far

she was bound and determined to go with me
i tried repeated times to talk her out of it
she was having none of it

"You are going to go away."
days she said. I know it's hours
scars on her back from a dog that was bound to die
another rescue says she
so be it. bring it home if they are willing
I can't bear to see it in a cage
ought to have to go to a class and get a license before you can
buy another living creature to bring home
or a gun to kill it
but that is for another nightday

Pope Frank had a birthday today
Donald Trump said something demonstrably false
and the sun came up
and the sun went round the sky
then I had a drink
did anything change while I was working?

posted up something today from
the Accidental Talmudist
not sure if Sgt. Edmonds was Baptist or Methodist
but that day he said We are all Jews
all of us. in the Stalag
maybe I should remember the German In Charge
he holstered his pistol
he kept it back
what would it have taken to wave the men down?
the machine gun is a grim reaper
cut like a cord ripped from the seams
but he didn't, some force of will or mercy or love or respect
it stayed that day
and they all walked in together, holding hands in hell

we are all in this together
there are no sidelines
there is no gallery,
each of us an audience in another's passion play

clicked on a thread that I should have avoided

Fighting it. I want to go over there and rant so hard. 
O it don't make one iota of difference!
release the bitter bile 
or relent. 


Hi. My name is cactusflinthead and I am a political junkie. 
I read entirely too much. 
I engage in debates that have no meaning and go no where. 
I try to stop, but I keep doing it. 
Maybe the one or two independent, mythical, legendary even 
swing voters
do they still exist? 

I want that picture of Hunter S. 
aiming his big .44 at the Chinese gongs
right here. 

Fucking ginkgo is going to outlive me 
and it gives not one fuck about politics;

But he is my friend

Many moons ago in a state of consciously awareness
not so very far from you
my father's friend had a dream
he was in a trench with a rifle
they were telling him to shoot the men across the way
he said. " I cannot. Those are my friends over there."
He saw the face of my father and my uncle in the trench
over there on the other side of no man's land


I do not expect you to be like me
nor do i think very much
that your experiences are mine
but i do know there are the same requirements for life
same bunch of elements that give spin and whirl to our lives
the same things that make us cry and laugh
smile of a dog and a wag of a tail
the smell of coffee and tea in the morning
the sharp air of a frosty morning

now there is there are the gaseous windbags

feeding and emanating from the id of fears

do I care if I am a political animal?

why yes

yes, I do

Does the time bend towards justice?

Have I come thus far to question it?

what is required of you O man

What doth God require of you?

To love justice, to do mercy

and to keep one's self from being polluted

ArmisticeRememberingVeteransDay of the eleventh day of the eleventh month

 Originally Posted by FCHorn 

Weird to think that some soldiers were killed right before or after the Armistice was announced...after enduring all that bullshit...

Random chaos happens. 
I posted up a ton of stuff yesterday. 

A small girl bending over the gravestone
two young boys wearing sailor's hats waiting for dad to return from England
only to die in the flu outbreak

a year ago an ocean of 800 something thousand poppies outside the Tower 
and John Prine singing about the last balloon and the needle and the spoon of Sam Stone
it is a hard day
it is a hopeful day
every year I seek out one person to thank
I know so many veterans
Santa Claus, Uncle Dave, Jerry's Dad
so much family everywhere and then they want to tell me these tales
and I have to listen. who among you would turn them away?

it is a hard day
to remember, to think about 
all that stuff. 
I think the cartoon from the Guelph might still be the most arresting
old man wearing his poppy, hobbling down the park
going to hear fife and drum one more time
maybe they will have bagpipes this year
I hope they don't muck it up again

See ya next year pops
or next week down at the domino hall
might slip in for lunch

My own share of demons and angels

Everybody I love you
my heart expands each day

unless I get in traffic of your making in which case
i want a warrant to shoot you

this is how it is. each day I am presented with this new set of
programs, problems, situations and circumstances
beyond my control
this is called life
rolling a big stone up this slight incline
only to have it teeter and wobble  back upon me
chasing me back down
i better run faster
seems to be gaining on me
sooner or later
that was done last week, we are all good on them

I was over there a while back
trying to sort through the future
of where i wanted to be
so many moving parts
best i can do is keep moving forward

Pope Frank was around here last week
I was glad to see it
something existential about the Vicar of Christ
come to see you
made the Speaker of the House
cry in his hankie
and leave behind all the BS that has become the day to day

i didnt start off being political
at 13 I was trying to figure out girl X
not how to get a bill passed to be a law
but somehow I knew
when they asked me what I wanted to be
I said Federal Judge
and that was the picture I drew
many moons later the cockfighter said to me
that was because you figured out the system mijo

there was a day when I was unsullied by the sweat and grit of life
it might have lasted ten seconds
oh i had a childhood. didn't you?
wasn't there the moments of when we saw a lightning flash?
the structure of our lives
we gleam it out in another's eye

Moving On with clenched fist and perhaps a bit of hope

Emil Nolde.
Woodcut
"The Prophet"


















I kept my cool this day
and it was not easy on St.Padric's day
No, indeed it was not
I had had a bellyful of lies already
the last one was worst than the first
do not put the words of the snitch into my mouth
I did not say them
come to me honestly and put some truth in there
if it is still in you
I might still talk to you
as it was I fought off the itch in my fist
and the holler in my soul

No longer will I be your hourly slave to dismiss
as the wind is too cold for you to bear
neither will I wear your colors
no, I remain here a fortnight for those fellows I have fought alongside
you sir can go suck up to some boss somewhere up the food chain
your predicament is no cause of mine
neither will I aid you in any way
what you have made is your own

but you never saw it
never saw it coming did you?
loud cursing I heard but not in my ears
have they come to roost for you?
those birds of carrion

what comes after I am gone is not for me to concern myself with
I will keep working as I did before
from the very first day I set foot on the property
I'll leave with better than I was given
because I earned it
and it wasn't yours to keep from me

the words may come back to you some day
if the sleep escapes you this night
it will find me in a few minutes
for the adrenaline has worn away
john barleycorn has done his job well
even if we did throw clods upon his head
he pushed them back and struggled up
waving in the wind, shining and shimmering in the sun

fare thee well my fellows
hale and hardy I pass by as a ghost in your midst
not long for this place said the short timer
glad tidings and will you someday some time
I might call you
give me your number and your name
for I go on from here
what you make of it all
that is up to you

in the shaking of my self
i kept the words in my head
when the last lie was worse than the first
quivering in anger I kept working
it was fight or flight
and I kept my head down and did not look him in the eye
or else all hell might break loose
professional demeanor, salute the uniform and not the man
if he tells me he is tired of hearing my voice
or seeing my face
I will be glad to go on from there
but there is so much to do
and we are so far behind
I don't think he has a choice in the matter

So long. It's been good to know you. Bye, Mr. Pete.

"Weavers Rebellion" Kathe Kollwitz

Pete Seeger died early this morning I suppose. Sometime in the wee hours of the night the old man slept. I shall miss him. Certain people form part of the overall landscape in our lives. Though our lives might only be connected through some work, they still form part of our lives. I grew up listening to the Weavers. By the time I came along in 67 his trouble with the government had passed. He was no longer under threat of incarceration. An avowed leftist, but not without regrets for his naivete in regards to Stalin, he was still a patriot and served his country in war as well as peace. He went to the South Pacific as a mechanic at first, but when they discovered his banjo he was promptly put to work entertaining the troops. He grew up a privileged life but the condition of humanity was in his songs. Much like Kollwitz took the plight of the working class people who lived in her time and made art, Pete gave them a song to sing. Pete was man of his moment and bore it with humility. Consider the triad of Guthrie, Seeger and Lomax that met in 1940. I don't think it is a stretch to say that during that meeting  parts of rock and roll and parts of country music and parts of protest politics  were born. This renaissance of American Folk music (which isn't really ours to begin with but are bits and pieces of other places we brought here) had its birth in this meeting. The Kingston Trio, the Weavers, Peter, Paul and Mary, a thousand marches and songs of protest, a million people and a million voices time and time again were born in those days. The haters did not know it was coming for them. The song of millions. Surrounding their hatred with hope of song. 

This troublesome gift of art. 

I don't suppose it is necessary to go through his entire biography: of how he was a communist and marched with MLK.  Unashamed to be called a leftist, he did not plead the Fifth and would not snitch on his friends. The history is well documented and the transcripts are available. I'd rather talk about his humility and the gift of song. 

I have looked once or twice to see who said "Let who will write my country's laws, only let me write her songs." I think Pete understood that idea. He certainly reinforced that concept in the American consciousness. When he told MLK he needed a song and "We Shall Overcome" was at hand it was like water on a thirsty tree. That song and songs like it have been and continue to be the armor of protest. Sung in capitols and streets they protect and embolden the protester. They enrage and confound the hatred. While Woodie Guthrie's machine declared it killed fascists, Pete's banjo surrounded hate and forced it to surrender. 

Johnny Cash explaining to Pete how he wanted him on his show. This is 1970. It took some doing on the part of Mr.Cash to get him on there. 

I see troll comments will probably appear for the man today. I don't think they will be worse than what he heard in marches before. I expect he had that word on his banjo for a reason. He understood how music affects people and taps into their being. I think all artists realize that. Their effort is to do that for you and me and everybody on the planet. In Pete's case it was awareness of your world.

 Of the plight of our fellow human beings,

 of solidarity in the face of hatred and oppression,

 of peace instead of war, 

of life and its precious existence.

 I would like to think his songs will live on for many generations to come. That the ideas expressed in them will continue to influence the singers and songwriters yet to be born. I consider him one of the gifts of human beings to each other. There won't be many like him in our history, a bard of the ages. 

halfway past the label

If the words do not come to you
do not force them

I had to learn that. Many times over. So much crap tossed in the flames or the virtual trashcan.
Maybe this passes muster. perhaps it survives. We'll see come tomorrow.

When did we stop giving a shit? When did I stop paying attention?
was i too busy in search of fun? Trying to wrangle my way back to the triangle.
or just another buzz?
I get in the truck and pump out my CO2
I go hose down the world and cry at the butterfly
get the hell out of here! go away!
I am death and the reaper
fear me

Cut loose again. Not sure why. Garbled replies and it is probably me.
shrug. Keep going. This ain't it. No rest for the wicked.
and the very next day I get messages and messages replied
no please no. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
perhaps this is it. Just me on the road.
keep working and the words come when I don't expect them

Is there a day of reckoning?
Well, when is it? Can't say eh?
Carry on then. Let the wicked carry on with it.
Let the good continue to be good.
I'll just try to muddle along.
See you there. Maybe. If I make the cut.

A thousand songs and a million tears
are not enough
a picture of ten thousand words
is but a glimpse of another soul
friends of pixels and oceans away
souls out of time and in my mind
they are part of me

No more hurting people. Peace.

that is what his poster said.
tears well up.
sounds so damn simple from the voice of a child
wearing his jersey of the wheel of a hub of Boston Bruins
missing a tooth
does it really matter where he was standing or what he was doing?

yeah why


why does it happen?

candyland

what brings us here?
is there an invisible sun?
wrestling with the existence
I want to know what makes people kill boys like this
or why we have to send out drones
I guess it was cheaper to fly in  by wire than send men in
and a duffell bag of a bomb with a cell phone to activate it.

I don't want to have to think about these things!

It makes me think back to the day of 911
that morning
I think of it again
it wasn't that long ago we remembered ten years in Iraq

complacency said the Senator from KY
it is difficult to restrain the anger




 I know that face
and the sun is set to rise
dear god, let him rest well
even if he who made him die
can find no place here to lay down

i want to cry out
this just ain't right

I had words and then I wrote it down

Happy Jack lived over there on the Isle of Man
banging drums and sand, couldn't stop Jack
couldn't prevent Jack from being happy
the waters still came on

ten years man, ten years
can you count all the dead? there are bones enough to do so
i can't count all the dollars
war on the cheap costs a helluva lot
whip their ass and take their gas never came to pass

ten years ago we let loose the dragon
rolled out the cage, unlocked the bastard and he roared
oh and how he did roar
the echoes linger today
nay, nay dear sir
the fires still burn

i once said I wanted Osama's head on a stick
a watery grave was good enough
i can handle that
that was last election cycle
and ten years later ten fucking long ass years
nobody seems to give a shit about that
nobody gives a damn
about a million dead
faces they never saw
voices never heard

there isn't enough whiskey in tennessee, kentucky, ireland and scotland combined
not enough weed in cali, british columbia and colorado all put together
to smoke out, drown out or fade into oblivion of mind
the blood we shed for no good reason

we owe a weregild

far more than we can ever pay
tears. tears and some half-assed syllables.

I bought 12 beers from Shiner Texas
not too terribly far from Austin
wintry festivusal blend with peach and pecan
that is what that flavor was!

Austin seems to be weird enough for Texas
to be acceptable to the rest of DKos
I would submit that there are weed smokers from
deep East Texas
where they have to pump the sunlight in
and far out in West Texas
where the wind draws the water
that will still benefit from the fact that
somebody in DC still has a hand on the tiller
because it has been obvious for years that Goodhair does not

It was when Sam heard the union was dissolved that he died
Barbara Jordan did not go there to leave here
I will not leave! I absolutely fucking refuse to leave!
If you want a fight to leave
well i will fight to stay.

I cannot explain bitterness and rage
some idiot test I took a while back
said that my ultimate failing was that
i expected people to make some sense

yeah, I guess I kinda do
sorry, i thought reason and logic
facts and shit like that
still applied
my bad

more art, if you can stand it

i still think hippies were germinated back during WWI when the rest of the world was
still thinking war was an honorable task and not something found at the
wrong end of a gun walking at a trench
some men went mad
and others just made like it was so, who would know?
throw another thousand men into the breach of fortifications
and let them billow upon the waters of lead

yes, let us walk into the gunfire of the implacements of machines
brilliant! let us salute the brass with our ass
so well informed, so shall we fight our fight
let us walk into the teeth of the guns
and perhaps we shall survive going over the top

when the brass asks, no tells us
you, go here and do this
and it is patently idiotic
we tend to buck at the idea
why are we expected to do any less now?

if the marlboro soldier of this latest war
has found himself divorced
and unemployed
what is that to the VA?
such is the lot of the veteran

we treat our disabled lobbyists better than we do our veterans
and that aint right

art: George Grosz, "The Convict"

100 years war

100 years of war

Finally saw the DNC's hard-hitting commercial
that which has raised and will continue to raise the ire
of the RNC and anybody on the other side of the aisle who voted for this damn thing
they ought to run it in every damn market that exists, until we all know it by heart

I did a diary on protest songs, like that was a first
got some comments and lots of links
it was reassuring to see the young and old remind me
of what I did not remember and was not aware of
good stuff maynard, eat it up

i cannot get through seeing the "War Pigs" edit on Youtube I found
without tears and anger, even now I choke up
I applaud them who gave it to all of us, lest we ever forget the images
that they do not want us to see

if we, the nation, decided to park the dead of the Civil War
in Mrs. Lee's rose garden
let us park our memories in Crawford and Kennebunkport
lest they ever forget. Let it be as the albatross that follows their every tack
haunt them into the grave of their own making

I cannot forget. Whiskey will not kill it
weed only magnifies the sharp images in my brain
my heart bleeds liberally upon page and there is no recourse
but to protest and be active, keep blogging, keep sending emails and money
fight the power. make them die like we have died
I will not relent. I cannot relent.
I owe them too much.

War Pigs

Save our souls.