ON VACATION - BLOGGING WILL BE LIGHT - IF AT ALL
Coming Together is a Two Way Street
I am laughing my proverbial arse off. After spending a fair amount of time on left, or perhaps they would prefer the tag progressive leaning blogs, reading the constant belittling, name calling, insulting and often vulgar characterizations of almost anything they disagree with, which of course is everything conservative , I am not surprised to learn of a Anti Tea Party movement. Before going any further however I must be fair and balanced. There are a few lefties whose views and opinions are deserving of consideration and I would be amongst the first to advise everyone, including conservatives, to do so. I shall not drop any names here but those of whom I am speaking of know who you are. And any conservative whose mind is open enough to be challenged by smart lefties probably know who am speaking of as well. Another thing I have noticed about the left, or progressives is their tendency toward elitism and snobbery. I hav...
pppppffffffffffffftttttttttt....waz this 'vacation' schtick? Youse probly just in the basement drinking beer and eating crackers and sardines.
ReplyDeleteGosh, how did ya guess? Planned to do that after arriving back home from the beer and sausage fest. :-)
DeleteIs it a VAcation or a STAYcation?
ReplyDelete1/2 and 1/2.
DeleteOr a praycation? Like not, given your stance on religion.;-)
ReplyDeleteI plan to pray to the gods of reason and logic over beer and sausage that republicans, democrats, conservatives, and progressives start looking beyond the absurd.
ReplyDeleteI know, this will happen when the god of lslam and the god of christianity start getting along.
Looking forward to the beer and sardines.
Sardines? Reminds me of this poem by Frank O'Hara:
ReplyDeleteWHY I AM NOT A PAINTER
I am not a painter, I am a poet.
Why? I think I would rather be
a painter, but I am not. Well,
for instance, Mike Goldberg
is starting a painting. I drop in.
"Sit down and have a drink" he
says. I drink; we drink. I look
up. "You have SARDINES in it."
"Yes, it needed something there."
"Oh." I go and the days go by
and I drop in again. The painting
is going on, and I go, and the days
go by. I drop in. The painting is
finished. "Where's SARDINES?"
All that's left is just
letters, "It was too much," Mike says.
But me? One day I am thinking of
a color: orange. I write a line
about orange. Pretty soon it is a
whole page of words, not lines.
Then another page. There should be
so much more, not of orange, of
words, of how terrible orange is
and life. Days go by. It is even in
prose, I am a real poet. My poem
is finished and I haven't mentioned
orange yet. It's twelve poems, I call
it ORANGES. And one day in a gallery
I see Mike's painting, called SARDINES.
--Frank O'Hara
I like the ones with mustard.
Deleteya, I like dem mustard sardines too, but Shaw, was alla dis Orange stuff?
ReplyDeletesee, I am not a painter, I am not a poet.... I am a jokester
Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Orange.
Orange who?
Orange you going to let me in?