Monday, February 15, 2010

Poetry by Hemmingway

The Age Demanded
by Earnest Hemmingway

The age demanded that we sing, and cut away our tongues.
The age demanded that we flow, and hammered in the bung.
The age demanded that we dance
And jammed us into iron pants.
And in the end the age was handed
the sort of shit that it demanded.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Fwd: Whereas considering the U-2

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: lorenzo jones <>
Date: Thu, Feb 4, 2010 at 4:01 PM
Subject: Whereas considering the U-2
To: lorenzo jones <>






WHEREAS, considering the U.S. Supreme Court's decision altering many years of restraint of unfettered corporate political contributions, and


WHEREAS, President Barack Obama has made a call for the Congress to create new laws which would impede such unlimited contributions, be it


RESOLVED, that the Texas Democratic Party join it's voice to the call for "forceful legislation" which would countermand the U. S. Supreme Court decision concerning the "stampede of special interests' money" for political campaigns and Congressional lobbyists, and resist this  long-term trend which minimizes the political power of the citizens of Texas, while maximizing the political power of worldwide special interests.

    The past is never dead. It's not even past." William Faulkner
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The 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, 1918

"Let him who thinks that War is a glorious golden thing, who loves to roll forth stirring words of exhortation, invoking Honor and Praise and Valor and Love of Country with as thoughtless and fervid a faith as inspired the priests of Baal to call on their own slumbering deity...let him look at a little pile of sodden grey rags that cover half a skull and a shin bone and what might have been its ribs, or at this skeleton lying on its side, resting half-crouching as it fell, supported on one arm, perfect but that it is headless, and with the tattered clothing still draped around it; and let him realize how grand and glorious a thing it is to have distilled all Youth and Joy and Life into a foetid heap of hideous putrescence. Who is there who has known and seen who can say that Victory is worth the death of even one of these?" Roland Leighton
"The old lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.":Sweet and fitting it is to die for one's country. Lieutenant Wilfred Owen, who's parents received the telegram of his death as the church bells rang in celebration of the Armistice on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, 1918.