Thursday, July 28, 2016


Elizabeth the Great.

I don't know ye, but how important is' t? with Twitter you don't really have to know any body.

Monday, July 25, 2016

Easy Rider Yellow Dog

Since the Miss, Susan lost her jockey Lee
Was more than excitement.
You, she Moanin 'night you can hear the morning
"Wonder where is my easy rider is lost."
Cablegrams is out of sympathy
Telegraph moves inquiries.
Alabam character 'comes from
Anywhere that Uncle Sam has
Delivery to rural areas as well.
Phone rings all day
But it was not for me.
The final good news
Please fill our hearts with joy.
This message comes from Tennessee.

Dear Sue your Easy Rider hit the fortress today
South Saidodoa puruman rattler car.
I saw him, he was a pig.
Easy Rider is now away
So he had to repair it, hiking is not far.
He has just gone over the South Yellow Dog.

I know this area like the back of a Yellow Dog
I know the route took the riders.
All tie, the Bayou, Burg and quagmire.
This is down south-way cross the dog.
Please do not exactly grow money trees.
Cotton is grown on the stem easily.
No horses, horseracing is not grandstanding
Old Beck is shot like a land
Down here in the south, cross the dog.

000! the yellow dog the yellow dog, Ridin Z. back of a yello dog,
Don't yu know I'm on Z. hog when I ride on Z. back of a yello dog  x
 x x

Saturday, July 23, 2016

who is she?

Can anyone out there identify this little waif? She's famous today; not so much then.

I know who it is but I'm not sayin until someone out there gets it right.

You can reply to this blog, or to 8103 E Southern in Mesa, AZ (85209).

Answer: even after 3 days on Facebook, there is no correct answer. (so, trumpet blatt, drum role) IT'S KELLY RIPA.  

Friday, July 22, 2016

friday cat blogging

It's a common enough topic heading this week, with a singular subject.

"Most everyone's mad here," said the cat.  "You may have noticed that I'm not all there myself."

Tuesday, July 19, 2016

nightmares & hallucinations

The Duchess's Kitchen, by John Tenniel.

I've been here in the kitchen for 9 yrs now. Except for the normal-looking little girl entering at right, the cast of characters is perpetual. 

The Duchess holds a baby who is writhing in pain and rage, as she makes ineffectual attempts to comfort it. She looks like Broderick Crawford in dire need of a fifth and a pack of Luckies, partly because the baby screams incessantly, and partly because she's been carrying the burden of monumental ugliness all her life.    

To her right, in front of the stove is the stoic-looking cook, holding a phallic-shaped pepper shaker and filling the air with that abrasive substance. Try sitting in such an atmosphere, with your nose burning, your eyes running, your ears assailed by howls and  enormous thumps, and I believe you too will conclude that imprisonment in such a place as the Duchess's kitchen, every day for 8 or 10 years constitutes torture.

It does get better at times. At night the fire dies down, and everyone goes to sleep -- the only relief. I'm certain that's why I've learned to sleep 13-14 hrs a day.

Did I leave anyone out? Yes -- barely noticeable under the cook's feet is the house cat -- a Cheshire Cat to be exact. Cats and dogs pictured in domestic scenes confer the status of households on them. A smiling cat is an evil image, and the Cheshire Cat designates the Duchess's kitchen as an evil place. If you want to see what it's like, stop by any time -- I'm always here.

Saturday, July 09, 2016

more of d same

I guess I'm too old to be disappointed by presidential elections any more, but I'm still angry as hell.

We've learned to expect the Republicans to be a bunch of nut cases, rageaholics, warmongers, religious fanatics, and apologists for capitalist pirates and blue-blooded aristocrats. That's never a surprise, and it's just the same old big, big deal.

But the naive and gullible American public is fooled one election after another, and continually disappointed to discover that the Democrats they thought were so wonderful are just a bunch of bimbos. Our wide-eyed innocence is perpetually taken advantage of by candidates who run campaigns exactly like the current one -- an exercise in feel-goodism, in which cynical establishment operatives manipulate us with pollyanna platitudes and glittering generalizations.

Things did change a little this year, and one candidate appeared willing to talk about the fact that since 1980 the United States has become a society composed of a tiny enclave of haves sitting atop, and on the backs of, a population of debtors. [The numbers prove it ( … §ion=4), so don't even bother telling me it ain't so.] He's losing, by the way.

No candidate is willing to bring up the fact that this country is dying under the weight of an empire and a military establishment more massive than anything the world has ever seen, capable of both casual violence and murderous, rage-driven wars of acquistion in which we drop cluster bombs on little kids. Economically, this war machine is bleeding us dry, but on this subject our vaunted "liberal" Democrats remain as silent as a row of cathedrals.

Instead of honest assessments of these and other life-threatening issues, the Democrats give us silly personality spats and feel-good, mealy-mouthed nonsense about "change" and "hope." To hell with them.

I'm appalled by the ease with which many of my fellow posters are taken in by this cynical twaddle. You're good, loving, well-meaning people, and I love the hell out of you, but most of the liberals I see here have a few things to learn about what actually drives the political process in this country. And here's a clue: it's not idealism.

Sunday, July 03, 2016

z word of z day...

...from z greatest pundit, Mr Atrios, at his blog Eschaton.

It's Really Happening

Trump is going to be the Republican nominee for president. There's going to be a convention. I might actually watch it.

Friday, July 01, 2016

oooh,that musta been a bed-bug... (lemon jefferson)

Public records show that Sen Sanders was paid in excess of $1,800.00 in 2015 by two private organizations. He must make  the contents of those speeches public, or otherwise surrender credibility in his ongoing feud with Mrs. Clinton, in which he insists she must divulge the contents of speeches she made to Goldman-Sachs and elsewhere on Wall Street. 

What happens in Phoenix gets spread all over the map. Sort of like Marinera sauce, but not near as tasty. I'm Joe Friday;  it's that day again.

OK, you're saying that what Bernie Sanders did is equivalent to what Mrs. Clinton did when she harvested millions from Wall Street Firms for speeches. And even though we know how much she got 4 each speech  the content of all of them is a closely-guarded secret (like the nuclear codes) -- no transcript, no synopsis for any of em.

I moseyed on over & decided to stick around & have a look-see. When I got over there it was ø but a rehooligan mob, so I thought I oughta "Stick Around" & have a hear-listen also 2.

PROFESSOR BRICE STICKS AROUND ON POOR HAPLESS MR. GREENJEANS. Engafgesin the dreaded spying technque, "hear-listen!"

The greatest carrier of "hear-listen" campaign microphones is Z bed bug, a pest for reasons other than this vermin's copious eagerness to be trained as spies, which augments and competes with his natural tendency and bloody enjoyment of painfully biting humans. 

I'm sure you know what I mean, and puhleeze do me the kindness not to evah ask me to explain it 2 U.