ON VACATION - BLOGGING WILL BE LIGHT - IF AT ALL
Is It Time For Americans Supporting Hillary's Candidacy To Rethink Their Position?...
Rational Nation U S A Purveyor of Truth Yesterday the FBI, following a yearlong investigation of HRC's e-mails and her use of private servers, decided not to refer criminal charges to the DOJ, thus playing into the hands of the Trump campaign's claim that the system is rigged. Here, in summary, is what FBI Director Comey acknowledged. Edited for clarity. She did not, as she claimed, turn over all her work-related messages for release. Her private email server did carry classified emails, also contrary to her past statements. Clinton used many devices to send and receive email despite her statements that she set up her email system so that she only needed to carry one. The facts, uncovered by the FBI are as follows. Again edited for clarity The FBI identified at least 113 emails that passed through Clinton's server and contained materials that were classified at the time they were sent, including some that were Top Secret. Clinton has separately clung ...
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?