Tuesday, 07/17/2018

Cecil B. De Aldrin is standing by for instructions.


Away we go!

ntodd 

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July 17, 11:08 PM in Mars, Bitches! | Permalink | Comments (0)

You want to touch big animals

Werewolf on the Moon:

It is somewhat a farce
There is no state — not since Bolshevik
word set foot there — only a river
 
bearing the name & you
commissioned the research: to study everyone
with a name on the Red List
 
of Threatened Species, to house
data online at programmes.putin.kremlin.ru,
to visit them all & each visit
 
to carry an air gun & a satchel
of tranquilizer darts, to shoot, to topple,
to affix the GPS collar, to caress
 
the fur (in the case of the whale
the skin) & muse to scientists about 
the big, sleepy oaf:
 
Would she remember, or eat you, or both?

Amanda Calderon.

ntodd 

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July 17, 10:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Monday, 07/16/2018

Sadie 6 Launch Is A Go


Birfday week for the Almost-Six-Year-Old commences!

ntodd 

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July 16, 11:10 PM in Mars, Bitches! | Permalink | Comments (0)

“Now I understand,” said the last man.

Alphabet's End:

So I'll speak ill of the dead. A was crooked,
planting the small left finger of the raccoon in the upholstery
before he sold the car. B made certain to point out Celia's
bewildered look before her pink slip came in the flimsy institution.
In the videos of C, a jejune overwhelmed the cast.
 
D built dollhouses. Even Lonnie down at Shell
found him less a man for it, the night they went off to see the stock
cars break. I wanted E's hair, but by the end it was no more. F
refused alms, pulling the man up by his shirt in the street, and
G sought rewards. Marybeth said H fondled her for sport.
 
Now you, I, Smokey, hell
bent on a village version of Club 21, embarrassed by our attentions.
Mistrust it was. Dig me a chamber of preparedness.

Susan Wheeler.

ntodd 

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July 16, 10:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Destroyer Of Worlds

We're still all sons of bitches:

The world's first nuclear explosion occurred on July 16, 1945, when a plutonium implosion device was tested at a site located 210 miles south of Los Alamos on the barren plains of the Alamogordo Bombing Range, known as the Jornada del Muerto. Inspired by the poetry of John Donne, J. Robert Oppenheimer code-named the test Trinity.

Hoisted atop a 150-foot tower, the plutonium device, or Gadget, detonated at precisely 5:30 a.m. over the New Mexico desert, releasing 18.6 kilotons of power, instantly vaporizing the tower and turning the surrounding asphalt into green sand. Seconds after the explosion came an enormous blast, sending searing heat across the desert and knocking observers to the ground. The success of the Trinity test meant that an atomic bomb using plutonium could be readied for use by the U.S. military.

Isn't that nice...

ntodd 

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July 16, 10:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

“I must avow to your Majesty, I have no attachment but to my own country.”

This Twitter thread on Her Majesty's choices of brooches to deal with His Treasonous Orange Motherfucker reminded me of John Adams' meeting with King George III for some reason.

ntodd 

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July 16, 9:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Thursday, 07/12/2018

It Just Happens Everyday


Look away, look away, look away, Dixie Land.

ntodd 

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July 12, 11:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Make America Thoreau Again

Men say they know many things;
But lo! they have taken wings, —
The arts and sciences,
And a thousand appliances;
The wind that blows
Is all that any body knows.

Henry David Thoreau.

ntodd 

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July 12, 11:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Wednesday, 07/11/2018

Two of us riding nowhere


It's not, in fact, going home.

ntodd 

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July 11, 11:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Darkly Dreaming Eyes

The Fine Duel:

In a leaf-strewn garden where
Colors run
Through vales unknown to care,
    —There shall our fine duel be.

On a purple gossamer dawn
When night
Retreats and day is gone,
    —Then shall our fine duel be!

Ah, duels might be divine.
In light
Like rare communion wine,
    —But you . . . no longer love me.

Ricardo Ewing.

ntodd 

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July 11, 10:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Take A Trumpet, Herald.


Well, they can't all be winners.

ntodd 

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July 11, 10:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

hideous hermaphroditical character, which has neither the force and firmness of a man, nor the gentleness and sensibility of a woman

Well, winning a duel isn't exactly treason, but whatever.  Letters Aaron Burr wrote to Joseph Alston after shooting Alexander Hamilton on this date:

New-York, July 13,1804.

General Hamilton died yesterday. The malignant federalists or tories, and the imbittered Clintonians, unite in endeavouring to excite public sympathy in his favour and indignation against lus antagonist. Thousands of absurd falsehoods are circulated with industry. The most illiberal means are practised in order to produce excitement, and, for the moment, with effect.
...

July 18, 1804.

The event of which you have been advised has driven me into a sort of exile, and may terminate in an actual and permanent ostracism. Our most unprincipled Jacobins are the loudest in their lamentations for the death of General Hamilton, whom, for many years, they have uniformly represented as the most detestable and unprincipled of men— the motives are obvious.

Every sort of persecution is to be exercised against me. A coroner's jury will sit this evening, being the fourth time. The object of this unexampled measure is to obtain an inquest of murder. Upon this a warrant will issue to apprehend me, and, if I should be taken, no bail would probably be allowed. You know enough of the temper and principles of the generality of the officers of our state government to form a judgment of my position.

...Several circumstances not very favourable to the deceased are suppressed; I presume, from holy reverence for the dead.

What a whiny asshole, but it took something more like actual treason to end his political career.  For more info on the duel, check out Drunk History, featuring Michael Cera as Hamilton.

ntodd 

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July 11, 9:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)