Steal This Meme: So Comfortable, Very Smart

trump wwi crosses so comfortable very smart

Trump, the Twitter certified @realDonaldTrump, called a travel lid today. That means he didn’t leave the White House. He was very busy tweeting. He did no honor to veterans, to the people of this country, or any one else today, but at least he didn’t wasn’t lying while standing in front of the Tomb of the Unknowns in Arlington National Cemetery.

tomb of the unknown inscription crop twk


Here, lies are solemn.

Here, lies are told
in the cadence of boot heels ringing on stone,
in the snap of a bolt shooting home
in the breech of a polished rifle, held at port arms
in white gloved hands.

Here, we fold our flag
and tell ourselves
the soldier died bravely
in a just cause.

Dead men cannot lie.
Here, all causes are lost.

Here, the living let stones tell the lies
the dead cannot.
To sooth sore hearts, tales are told
of glory in battle,
and courage under fire.

Here, the paths of glory
discolor marble
a shade of brown like dried blood
scuffed into the paving stones
by the slow turn
and turnabout march
of the Guard of Honor
in roped off sacred ground
in front of the Tomb of the Unknown.

Here, lies are told by Presidents and generals.
Here, chiseled stone names no names.
Here, the truth lies sleeping under stone.

Under lies, the truth rests,
but not in peace.
The dead have chisels that cut the heart.

Random Photo

ghost piano gingko leaves

A photo a day keeps the Doctor in play.

Grendel’s Laundry List: Vonnegut on Armistice

flanders-poppy-in-bloom twk fbw rcrop

Armistice Day 1918-2018

The eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month.

So this book is a sidewalk strewn with junk, trash which I throw over my shoulders as I travel in time back to November eleventh, nineteen hundred and twenty-two.

It was during that minute in nineteen hundred and eighteen, that millions upon millions of human beings stopped butchering one another. I have talked to old men who were on battlefields during that minute. They have told me in one way or another that the sudden silence was the Voice of God. So we still have among us some men who can remember when God spoke clearly to mankind.

Armistice Day has become Veterans’ Day. Armistice Day was sacred. Veterans’ Day is not.

So I will throw Veterans’ Day over my shoulder. Armistice Day I will keep. I don’t want to throw away any sacred things.

What else is sacred? Oh, Romeo and Juliet, for instance.

And all music is.

Kurt Vonnegut, Breakfast of Champions, 1973

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row…

John McCrae (died 1918)

Poem: The Rain falls in Belleau Wood

belleau wood fresh graves

The rain falls in Belleau Wood
Birds fall dead from a sky of fire in California
The President’s helicopter is afraid to fly
The Presidential motorcade refuses to leave Paris
The President is watching Fox News and tweeting it
from his Presidential suite and cannot hear
the silence
of the eleventh hour
of the eleventh day
of the eleventh month
the silence of the guns
the silence of the dead
The rain falls in Belleau Wood
but nobody can hear it
because the President’s umbrella won’t open
to catch the drumming of tears
because the President’s helicopter is afraid to fly
because the Presidential motorcade refuses
to drive from Paris
The rain falls on Belleau Wood
but it really isn’t
the wreaths are dry
birds fall from a sky on fire
ghost rain plays taps on soldiers’ graves
The President is watching Fox News and tweeting it
from his Presidential suite in Paris and cannot hear
the silence of it
Tell the poppies still blowing in Flanders fields
The President isn’t coming.

Via NBC: Trump cancels visit to Belleau cemetery due to bad weather, creates storm.

Random Photo: Coniferous and Evergreen

cypresses from below boostCypresses

A photo a day keeps the Doctor in play.

Grendel’s Laundry List: Fling Out Broad / For That I Came

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves — goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying Whát I dó is me: for that I came.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

As a rule those who were least remarkable for intelligence showed the greater powers of survival. Such people recognized their own deficiencies and the superior intelligence of their opponents; fearing that they might lose a debate or find themselves out-maneuvered in intrigue by their quick-witted enemies, they boldly launched straight into action; while their opponents, overconfident in the belief that they would see what was happening in advance, and not thinking it necessary to seize by force what they could secure by policy, were the more easily destroyed because they were off their guard.

Thucydides, History of the Peloponnesian War

The happy ending is justly scorned as a misrepresentation; for the world, as we know it, as we have seen it, yields but one ending; death, disintegration, dismemberment, and the crucifixion of our heart with the passing of the forms which we have loved.

This death to the logic of emotional commitments of our chance moment in the world of space and time, this recognition of, the shift of our emphasis to, the universal life that throbs and celebrates its victory in the very kiss of our own annihilation, this amor fati, “love of fate,” love of the fate that is inevitably death, constitutes the experience of the tragic art…

Joseph Campbell, Masks of God vol. 4: Creative Mythology

Hegel remarks somewhere that all great world-historic facts and personages appear, so to speak, twice. He forgot to add: the first time as tragedy, the second time as farce.

Karl Marx, The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Napoleon

Steal This Meme: Election Day Forcast


This is your Election Day Weather Forecast: Snowflakes. Snowflakes everywhere. And Xmas may come early.

Steal this meme before it’s too late.

As Clay Shirky, author of Here Comes Everybody, puts it, “The stupidest possible creative act is still a creative act.” Words to live by in the latter days of the Internet Age. Steal this meme.