Our own big Senate race here in Nebraska has been highly obnoxious, as per ushe. Democrat Bob Kerrey has given himself a slight chance of winning lately and of course I'll vote for him but it's still all so damn tiring. Mainly I wish that Nebraska Republicans would just come right out and say that they consider themselves the moral owners of this state and that they are entitled to reign without challenge.
As it is they feel the need to stretch for moralistic reasons as to why non-conservative beliefs and candidates are illegitimate and unworthy of true engagement even in opposition. Bob Kerrey lived in New York you see, and don't you know that he's more likely to agree with Henry Reid then members of the party he isn't a part of? As for rank-and file Democrats, well, you know, our views are beyond the pale because they are likely to align with those of Hollywood actors and academic elites. We serve as nothing but ballast to prevent three reliably GOP house seats from being whittled down to two, beyond this there is no compelling reason for True Americans to tolerate our presence. Very tiring, like I said, though it does reveal just how much the right wing well and truly hates this nation that they love better than us. Are they really so socially limited to truly believe that ninety nine percent of everyone are knowingly and maliciously living outside the true universal norm? ( Everyone who has been physically outside of the US for purposes other than military conquest : especially those who were born abroad but certainly not limited to them; All non practicing Christians, all sexual "deviants"; not just gays but the willingly childless or single, everyone who lives in the core of a 100'000+ metro, everyone who lives east of the Alleghenies and north of the Mason-Dixon; or California, or a college town, all brown people who are not perfectly assimilated to Ameriwhite; etc, etc;) Or is it just the self-righteous buzz that they care about and to hell with whatever sense it makes?
Whenever extreme weather hits the Boston-New-York- DC "national downtown" the national media that tend to be based in this region does naturally tend to focus on the story quite heavily, and it's as if all America is sitting in a living room with the power gone out telling ghost stories. I feel somewhat bad in focusing on the romantic aspect of it; this thing is after all causing great pain and misery and has apperently already killed people. But then again think of all the famous love stories that are set in the midst of major wars; nothing like mass slaughter to bring our passions to the surface so that we all experience things more fully, isn't it all so sweet?
And am I the only one who finds it seriously fucking perverse that the national media, even NPR, is speculating on how this storm might effect the election? Christ. The obvious answer, anyway, is that this is solid evil elitist Fake America country and it won't.
I live here y'all, and I can assure you that we are more than capible of blindly flailing bout for extended periods of time.
I'm not one to give a knee-jerk White Knight respnse to anti-Americanism. Our government has indeed involved itself in some very low-down business in the Middle East and elsewhere. What does strike me is how some are able to see the United States as uniquely evil while at the same time placing us above mortals in our ability to control events. It is, after all, precisely such a grand view of ourselves that led to the second Iraq war, the imposition of the Shah, Vietnam, etc, etc. (As well as the stabbed-in-the-back bullshit that followed the inevitable comedown from these adventures.) What domestic chauvinists and foreign conspiracy mongers both fail to understand is that it is precisely our vast size that makes acting as one all-powerful levathian impossible. There are of course differing factions here competing for power amongst ourselves; every now and then some small, poor, "minor" country will be used as a tool towards that minor end, but this is rarely if ever part of some all-consuming scheme, or even a coherent one.
I have the touch. Touch is that thing that I'm able to tolerate from another person when I'm passed out drunk.
I used to love restaurants until I got sick at a little kids hot dog place on my sixth birthday, or actually for some time after, until I realized that they exist for the specific purpose of encouraging people to talk to each other while they eat. Now I can barely stand the God damn things.
I remember the early nineties when crime and teenage degeneracy were at their height and vigilante erections even higher, there were 'The More You Know' PSA's encouraging families to eat dinner together at the table so that they could talk and that way magically cure crime and teenage degeneracy. I became a drunkard and a fiend to avenge that but the family still insists on talking even after I pistolwhipped the clerk at 7-11.
I became deathly bored with sex as soon as I had had it with the same person twice, some twelve years after I lost my virginity, or actually some time before, when I realized that as soon as the subject came up in Junior High School it might be literally hours before anyone would shut the fuck up about it, or when my father cried at the beauty of my fifteen year-old cousins shotgun wedding, or when he tried to force me to dance with my other cousin at the reception because he thought children dancing with each other was all Hallmark and such, or when he insisted on meeting the girlfriend that didn't actually exist while I was on secret mission arming the killers of Yitzhak Rabin with the only bullets that can kill lizard men and simply had no time for love or more precisely no other love but the understanding arms of my fellow lizard men.
I've gotten over it mostly. I have a wife that I bought on my drug store credit that I keep in the war cellar while she inculcates my heirs with the power to fire my blunderbuss with the accuracy of Mark Brunell's 22 consecutive completions against the Houston Texans on a clear day in September of 2006. In 2009 I had my wife installed with termite genes on drug store credit so that my heirs now number in the number in the millions and counting, masculine to a man and to a man endowed with the power to sever carotid arteries with frosty straws ruling Bozeman Montana with an iron fist.
I rule on a throne of skulls I fuck the virgins of Bozeman Montana as a tithing practice from the people on their quinceañeras male and female and those who are already degraded are fed to the wife without remorse. I force my slaves to till a field of blood with no hope of yield until they go mad from the revelation and are forced to realize that far from being in any sense an 'alien' or 'third world' pasttime the game which we know as soccer is in fact highly steeped in the very Anglo Saxon Protestant culture that supposedly forms the basis of pure Americana.
I have fooled the world into believing that Noam Chomsky is a reality when he is in fact simply a manifestation of their own deaths. I have invented damnation it is only by the rules of my reality that hatred of left-wing academia should be seen as in any way irrational when in truth it is simply the infallible premonition of our universal purgatory. there is a life after death that awaits us all after we die for the first time on October 28th 1943 and that is to be fused in one body to our desks at Binghamton University writing our thesis on how the Magic Schoolbus was written to legitimize gunboat petrodiplomacy static gender rolls and the Augusto Pinochet regime.
I have trained myself to eat pure stalks of grain straight from the root, clear out in the farmlands long abandoned for fear of myself where there are no eyes to see me defile myself so.
If I had brought myself to ask Jenny Watkins to wear my sophomore football jersey before homecoming in 1995 this could have all been avoided.
I have seen the peace that my exhausted mother dreamed of while she held her newborn babe in her arms. It made me feel more violently ill than when I immunized myself from the mutated pest and I felt no relief until I held my blunderbuss in my arms once again. Only then did I know that the war shall last forever and the justice of our lord Jesus Christ shall prevail.
Truly and completely dreamless, in all candor; and then very slow to get up at the sight of the premature winter outside. It might be that I'm part gopher and I have a natural hibernation cycle; except my appitite has been low. It's not that I'm depressed, in fact the feeling of changing my wardrobe for the varying weather and then being outside in it has given me a very deep feeling of well-being and comfort in the past few days, even to the point of being somehow erotic. It's just that though I have gone through the chore of dosing myself with enough calories to maintain I simply haven't been hungry; and there's nothing I can think of that feels appetizing, not even my old favorites. Except maybe buffalo stew. I'm not trying to be Kevin Costner by saying that. I've no pretense of being a White Man reborn to the land it's just that, I've had buffalo stew, and I enjoy it on its own merits without any cultural airs. Buffalo stew with jalopenos and kippers and maybe some squash and soda bread to drop down into it. That would be something to inspire the gorge in me maybe.
I was never terribly interested in the guy. I find bicycle racing extremely boring, and the sight of an American winning a bicycle race does not magically make it less boring. If you should be one of those who consider victory to be a matter of virtue; so that the sight of someone from your own national or regional tribe winning something is a sign of your own moral superiority to others; well, you're a fucking idiot, is all there is to that.
There was certainly a great deal of abrasiveness to the man from what I did notice about him. Whether this was a matter of protesting too much or Armstrong just naturally being that arrogant... who's to say? It might be worthwhile to ponder if Sheryl Crow hooked up with the guy for the very purpose of love-gone-wrong material. If so it didn't work; her stuff is as impossibly bland as it has ever been.
It seems that literally everyone to a man who has gained success in professional cycling has done so through cheating, which is hilarious in a Bokononist sort of way, and it does call to question this entire game of taking laps around nations. It seems to be a good deal beyond even the best professional athletes.
I've only heard of the existence of "Yu-Gi-Oh" once or twice and knew nothing about it. So my internet handle has nothing to do with this guy, in the off chance that anyone was wondering. Though the way he looks exactly like me is very disturbing.
I will have you know, staff of the Washington Free Beacon, that I've been known to crack a Joose or two myself, and that I have nothing but the deepest love, both physical and emotional, for young women who are themselves able to appreciate a fine malt-liquor energy drink hybrid. How exactly does it invalidate her question anyway you bitter dried out creeping stalker pieces of Nazi compost?
I had a conversation with a guy today, which is to say that he talked to me without prompting for ten full minutes while I nodded towards him and struggled to remain polite. It remember it began when I saw him out of the corner of my eye, deliberately looking around for the slightest hint of eye contact to use as a pretense for starting conversation. He said that he'd just returned from the Philippines then proceeded to riff on that and maybe it's so.
It would a bridge too far to say that I hate extroverts. What I do have is a very deep scorn for extroverts who consider their own sensibility to be the universal human standard; so that they think that they're doing me a favor by trying to make me 'open up' by forcing me to join in their verbal masturbation. I am only now starting to get over the repressed rage I was feeling towards this guy.
I was prone to snobbishly reject them as bougie theatre in my younger days but I find myself actually sort of geared for this one. Foreign policy tonight, meaning pompous declerations that -imperialism and certainty of always being right is the one true path that every Real American feels in his heart vs. the kinder gentler hegemony of the Dems. I sense that President Obama will do pretty well for himself tonight, maybe even give himself a real advantage, but then there's no telling what might go wrong. Anticipation is almost always better than the sex itself, wouldn't you agree?
I've always wanted to use that headline for some long lived VIP. And now I can use it in complete honesty. I actually did think that George McGovern had been dead for some time and was confused as to why all these memoriums to him kept popping up in the news this morning.
I wonder how the man would do in an election these days. We are also living in a time when the traditional social hierarchy is leveling out with surprising rapidity; and when those who have historically been on the top are expressing their fear of falling to our level through obsession with 'security', obsessive belief in myths of cultural purity (The Golden age when Americans were perfectly united in purpose and belief) and most generally with any opinion that gives the air of being 'strong' or 'tough', with a particular fixation on an eternal foreign enemy that the United States should be made to form our own identity against. This self-indulgent fear of communists yesterday and Muslims today allows those who are losing their priveledge to not only reassure themselves of their own strength and vitality, while also holding out hope that by turning the national focus towards the Enemy they will be able to reenforce and restore their newly threatened parogatives; convincing the peasantry that we must 'stand united' and fall in line behind the old ruling class.
My guess then after saying all of that is that George McGovern would probably get as badly smoked today as he was back then. There are some who complain about President Obama's
relative moderation but the sad truth is that power and vanity are cultural addictions that cannot simply be cut off cold turkey. It takes slow chipping, and no small amount of guile. The slippery slope that the Screwheads fear is indeed coming for them. Tonight, in the first circle of Purgatory for American heretics, Hunter Thompson is right now teaching George McGovern how to finally drink like a man.
My cousins live in Evans, Colorado in a trailor park near the South Platte River, which goes on to serve the thirst of most Nebraskan people, pets, and crops. The town of Evans has no logical reason to exist. A quick look at the map shows that is simply a physical extension of Greeley and the larger semi-city could reasonably swallow its neighbor and establish the Platte as its natural border. Ah well, the vagaries of American exurbia. Greeley's downtown is a hollowed out and depressing place, no more vertical or active than my hometown of North Platte's; which is a quarter of the size, but there is a university in the middle of Greeley with green grass and a human pulse.
The advertising pressure on swing state voters is truly intense; I had never been in a competitive state during election season before; nothing but attack ads for a full hour on either side of the late local news. There was even one night where my cousins and I watched a bumper on ABC channel 7 that said nothing but 'political ad break' and then just sat there on the screen for two minutes. A ten year old girl from Westminster was murdered sometime in the days before I was there, and of course that's fucking horrible. Though I did notice that coverage of her death received at least qudruple the TV news attention as a car crash that killed four members of a Hispanic family from Omaha just outside of Greeley. The dead driver to be sure does seem to be at fault; but then those two dead kids are just as innocent as the murdered girl, and of course there's the simple fact that four are greater and more significant than one, and this is independent of any Just World bullshit. But I suppose that I've already said too much on this matter and you may judge the rest for yourself.
There are some stereotypes; especially out on the Central Plains, that the Front Range is an endless strip city with one municipality bleeding into the other at random. This is sometimes true, as with Evans & Greeley, but exaggerated in the main. There is for the moment still plenty of open space and even farmland between Greeley-Ft. Collins, Boulder-Longmont, and the Denver metro proper. What is lacking is truly open country as a Nebraskan would perceive it. No protracted stretches of seeing nothing human save the road itself, no full quarter or half hours of being able to drive at 90 mph with nothing in one's way. Even on the highways one is never more than three miles from a gas station or a traffic light. The US 85 'expressway' from Greeley to Denver has long ago regressed into an overtaxed and mentally grinding industrial boulevard with nothing to recommend it. I usually hate taking freeways as I usually have the navigation skills (and, admittedly, free time) to take the local low roads to get where I'm going while being able to see... things. In this case though I must say that I-25 is very much the less depressing route into the city.
Staying with my cousins did remind me of just how bachelor my bachelor ass is. Simply eating the same meal as other people with them right there or watching and commenting on the same show was taxing and strange to me. Solitude is whats normative to me and the companionship of even friends, family and lovers stikes me unfailingly as alien and false. Not to concern you understand. I'm not mentally ill or depressed, no more than everyone else anyway, and I do feel something like intimacy and warmth for my Nebraska college friends, but they're an exception that came about through several factors, and anyway I have perhaps revealed a little too much about myself. Take care now. Have a good Friday night!
I think Boulder may have had the biggest impression on me, though my mind swerves in between Boulder and Ft. Collins on that point. In Denver I had parked my car in the highlands neighborhood just accross the South Platte from downtown. I was in the city for near all of Monday touring and touristing, riding the light rail and spending a good two hours in the state capitol. (It seems that one can easily discern how many people a state does or doesn't have by it's capitol. On this trip I stopped by the Wyoming one in Cheyenne as well and found it to have about the same size and feel as a middle school.)
I returned to the Highlands at about four in the afternoon and spent a long time refinding exactly where I had parked; so that it was near-exactly five when I joined the multitude heading out of the city at five PM. People actually use their bicycles as vehicles here, like seriously. On thirty ninth street I drove nearly a mile at fifteen miles an hour behind three of them. Then up Federal Boulevard, across I-70 and into the north end of the city proper, surrounded now by the same grity parking lots and glass sunburned tattiness that you find along West Center in Omaha or any car-based city in the US. The traffic on the Boulder Turnpike was near bumper-to-bumper but still moving at full speed, it was exhilierating, though the sight of people speaking on phones or eating while a sneeze away from causing mass mangling death did cause bring some real fear; or maybe it was self-rightousness. Then after a rise in the road appeared this thoroughly distinct city in the midst of randomly designated suburb; a square of golden-fall trees taking up one's entire field of vision before descending into it.
I parked somewhere to the east of twenty eighth street and made my way to a hiking trail; which was as full as a city street. Everybody jogs. Everybody bikes. If you are on the sidewalk you are never more than ten feet from someone else using the sidewalk. I remember when my family questioned my mental state when I willfully chose walking ten blocks over driving to a particular destination. It seems that the opposing attitude holds dominion here; and it's very endering to know that there's somwhere in the United States that sees things straightly.
I came across Folsom Field by honest accident. I had been following the trail along Boulder Creek befgore I decided to change direction, walked up a rise, and found the letters 'COL' written along the sunken bowl that I've seen on TV a doezen times; 1989, 2001, the virtual soccer riot of 2005; no worries, I've never hated this place or the people who lived here. Anyway it seemed I was on campus now; the library here is top of the line and the other buildings seem well tended to.
I continued west over and through 'University Hill, repeating a ritual I had perfomed earlier that day in Golden, walking to the very edge of the prairie and touching the base of the first mountain. I was maybe feeling a little high from the thinness of the air, but it truly does feel like the Flatirons do add a reflective shimmering quality to the air here; and they look very impressive at dusk. I followed College Avenue up to its dead end, feeling true and winded even though I almost never get tired from walking, past the ranch style homes filled with what may be the most elitist and splendedly isolated left-wingers and the Western world, and finally to the end of the road where my hand toushed vertical dust; an entirely different patria from my own. I had might as well have been thirty miles under the sea.
I rested for some minutes and then took a long drink of water. I had a dry mouth and slight headache for nearly my entire time here, which I don't think is supposed to happen unless you're actually up in the peaks. Would have gotten over it if I stayed longer maybe. As for this moment I realized that I hadn't eaten for several hours and was starting to feel really tired. It would be a downhill walk back across town at least, then a familiar ruralish drive across the northern subdivisions to Greeley, where my cousins were waiting for me.
The Natives do not actually drink significantly more than the White people living in the Far West; on this much I can assure you. I guess having the money to drink a dozen Coors instead of eight Hurricanes does have a real effect on one's health.
My own advise to the tribal government would be to simply legalize alcohol on the reserve and than use the tax money to fund health/addiction care. But it isn't my call.
Men in long jackets attacking with dust cold breath and fire. A thousand abandoned termite mounds housing the workers for the new silver dust gathering scheme, damming water at the very base of the mountain before the sun and our food can take it all away. Thieves and tricksters condemned by mass vanity and children bored by all agitation short of death. Orphans and widows building their own shadow worlds with all manner of depravities given free berth devoid of proper social education.
Tomorrow morning everyone will have a toxic reaction to even the freshest eggs and there shall be no crop in the field save the grubs themselves.
I shall be in Denver for the last day of the beer festival in Lodo, among other things. I'll probably be puttering around the Ft. Collins/Boulder north area for a time as well.
The old home town is on the way there, and I shall naturally be overnighting on Friday; just ahead of the local leg of the Obama is a Nazi roadshow. Good times, good times.
Anyway there's a great Mexican spot along East Colfax called La Costa, just over the line in what's Aurora but not really Aurora, and there's quite a variety of Indian places in Denver as well, though I'm not sure as to why that is.
I have a vision of reading to a Sp ce event here in Lincoln over phone while I straddle the state border with a Nebraska flag in one hand and a crucifix in the other. I'm not sure what I'll read yet but the important thing is to make this vision come to pass.
Bill Keller, usually the very model for Very Serious paublum since hiring himself as a weekly columnist for the NYT, has actually written a thoroughly decent piece that came out today.
One still hears bitter griping about Kids These Days with their uppity self-esteem; but the truth is that American culture has always encouraged us to be a fantastically self-assured people. This does have its benefits of course. It may well be that we would have never been able to 'totally go to the moon man' if it wern't for this attitude. But it does have its obvious drawbacks as well; most famously in the way it poisons our political well with the 'Rugged Individualist' myth. And our collective illusion of control is also the main reason why our 'dying with dignity' debate is probably fucked beyond all hope forever. I've had several private conversations in which the other person spoke of a dying loved one 'letting themselves go.' In my observation it is generally stated very calmly, matter-of-factly, and commonsensically that death is nearly always a matter of "giving up"; so that permanent life is by extension a simple matter of toughness and will. There is of course the great religious 'pro-life' bambast and all that; but cosmic belief only ever follows from what the heart already wants. The actual truth is that there is no such thing as a 'fight' against cancer or AIDS or diabetes or lupus, only victimization that we have no power to refuse and the occasional survival out of pure luck. Or go ahead and call it a blessing or a miracle if you insist.
Then of course is the prodding by insurance companies telling victims that they would be perverse to not exhaust their life savings on chachining their lives by a few extra months. (There are personal stories about this in the comment section to Keller's article) Though it's also true that not even the best con-artists can sell their marks on something they wern't already yearning for.
It was way back when Mike Johanns was governor. A mother and daughter of a murdered man had come to oppose the death penalty and came to the Board of Pardons* to beg for his killers life.
It didn't work and the quirk was soon forgotten about, mostly, even by me.
It may well be the case that women who have been wronged in this case are somewhat expected to be merciful towards those who killed their loved ones. If a movement of righteous avenging Fathers of murder victims opposed to the death penalty were to come about it may have more of an impact. It would have to be a movement too, as only one or two such fathers could simply be dismissed as unmen without any trouble at all.
(* The Board of Pardons consisting of the governor, secretary of state, and attorney general, is unique to Nebraska, created to prevent the horrors that would result from one person holding absolute power over mercy.)
"There is an increase of americans that are not solving their problems as well as they used to. There are less therapists in america. Here listed are old and new reasons for this.
Adultery deception.
In a shelter with a person that does adverse touch behavior.
Emulating an immoral leader.
Dry brain from arid atmosphere due to Chinese use of a pulverizer that demolishes a home in minutes.
Brain fog from eucalyptus fungus spread by small airplane on cities causing chalky feeling in mouth and less concentration.
Lead in new paints from chinese in paint factories adding lead. Less concentration and seizures are the result.
Gay psychologists that state 'I can't help you with that' after paying $50 for counseling.
Bipolar
Schizophrenia
Depression
Panic episodes
Post truamatic stress"
An Oven is Like The Womb
Boy Friend goes Gay
"When a boyfriend goes gay and tell his girl friend the news girlfriend walks for three days and then comes back into her house not very stable but able to work. She silently screams in the bathroom at work and tries to bring a stranger man into her home to cry with.
The cure is to see a massage therapist once a week for a month. Rock yourself to sleep. suck on a bottle of warm milk or tea and brandy. Bedtime stories can be help if they are not from salacious books. State 'in the morning I will feel more optimistic.' see a Jennifer Lopez movie where she always tries to get married. Watch 'Little House on the Prairie' Tv show where wife and husband extoll virtues that make a marriage work and kids work and are kind. do not masturbate or you might try to be a stranger home before you are healed. Wear a rosary for kindness to yourself and others will be kinder to you. Use a heating pad as you lay. test for AIDS."
Students Realize the Truth
"Brian Arbinger and Luke Smith are newly coming to NUtech to add licensing of ideas decveloped by professors and students.
Arbinger was a marketing officer for nano tech. Nanos have not had a medical use for 30 years. Moslems use nanos with stem cells with a tiny eye and ear to go into Americans to state statements in their heads so they eventually self inflict. Patriots should not allow nano tech in universities."
Homocides of Nicer Whites
"South Africans invited nurses from Poland and Checkoslovakia to work in saint Elisabeth's hospital in 1982. They said 'da' to each other often. 'Da' is yes in russian language. Who put Russian nurses and their husbands in Sought Africa at a fragile time?
If one person tainted food while the white South African was away, the white ate the food, went to the emergency room and was seen by a Russian nurse who gave them a lethal pill.
This may be when the tainting started."
Replace Flag Poles
"There's a ball on the cupola at Love library and a ball on an antenna on M street and 14th. Both balls could be antennas.
What else has a ball on the top? Flag poles. Americans need to have only wood poles for flag poles."
If You've Been Incapacitated
"If you came into your home or car and fell to the floor incapacitated Chinese may have left lethal lacquer in side. Eat clay or dirt and get molasses to recover immediately. Open doors and pur molasses on lacquer area."
Dad Lightly Molests Daughter
"Dad molests daughter. What should mom do? Daughter cries for hours afterwards. Daughter leave the home to sleep over with her best friend in high school or leave to go to college early. Daughter writes a letter to her mother scolding dad for his slightly lewd behavior. Mom is molified. She goes to a therapist with the letter. The therapist talks to both mom and dad. 'Can you say you are sorry?' asks the therapist. Dad admits guilt and apoligizes. Mom maintains her dignity and accepts her husband back. Daughter locks her bedroom door if she ever comes back to their home."
Ross and Lila
"A Moslem woman named Lila went to college in America and got asked out by an American non virgin man named Ross. After a while Ross came into her dorm room and stayed until morning. They went everywhere together. June came and Lila went back to her village. Every Moslem woman gets inspected by the village doctor to find if they are a virgin. Lila hit the doctor until male medice pinned her down. The doctor said 'she's obviously not a virgin. Let's see.' Lila was sent to a prison and in a month she was stoned and lost her life. Every Moslem village has at least one stoning a day from this.
Twee and Al
"A Chinese woman named Twee dated Al for three months. Al invited her into his dorm room to listen to music and see a movie on computer laying down. the next morning Al said 'God I think I have a baby coming.' Al said to Twee 'I don't want to live the rest of his life in China.' Twee is going to give birth to the only child she will ever have. 'How will I raise my child alone?' If I go back to live with my parents no one will ever marry me.'
Every Chinese woman has done away with a man in a military building in Beijing in order to get to America. If Al goes lays with Twee after he has said he won't be a husband, he might not live to sunup. His body would be taken by Chinese and dumped somewhere so his parents only know he is missing.
American men please don't date a Chinese woman. american woman please don't date a Chinese man. He has done away with a woman in Beijing after mating in Beijing.
There is no such thing as multiculturalism. Everyone comes from a certain culture. Some cultures grow up humans who are not as kind as our Christianity."
Jennie is Recovering
"A ten year old girl from San Francisco, Jennie is doing better. Her new mom plays Barbie and Ken everyday with healthy in bed scenes. She ran away yesterday and pin pricked her skin her skin with a needle. Her mom gave her band aids to put on it. Her mom asked her to tickle herself to make her able to control her own likeable touch. She brushes herself with a brush from head to toe in the direction hairs go. She likes to finger weave. Jennie was hiding that she knows how to read. Jennie says to her mom that she likes to read picture books but she hasn't read any yet. Classes begin next Monday. Her mom thinks she will stand out and is so concerned she wants to teach tutors to help her and other children like. Jennie feels and thinks better since she is wearing a rosary and a rosary in her undies with the cross outside the waist band. Get out the Christmas cretch to adore the Holy family that ran away from a bisexual Harrod."
"Join up. Divine may I have a rosary? Wear magnesium oil and don't masturbate. State master garlic, wear garlic in pockets, sew undies to undershirt in front, put ice next to bed. Throw out TV and dangerous items. Log lock door or put rosaries on doorknob. Put white crosses on entryways, head of bed and top of page. Let Christ into your life with nicer communications, curing disease and care for the weak. Meet at a library. Use a megaphone through neighborhoods. Speak impromptu to all at restaurants. Group to solve problems. Be prayerful. Make copies."
Days after delving into city-level fiscal policy, which is most decidedly not his business, the chipmunk governor is now atacking a University letter that presents 'Obamacare' as something other then then the pure devil. I can only guess as to why he feels the need to do this. There is political calculation involved here to be sure. Heineman probably knows that he cannot wake up in the US Senate without making a show of something, however entitled he obviously considers himself to be. Then again he must also know that involving himself in a second-tier culture war gripe (OMG The hippies are coming after the hunters and the cowboys!!) isn't going to score him all that many points.
My own sense is that this the governor does how he does mostly out of sincere conviction instead of guile. (Which earns him no points since he is always sincerely wrong). Heineman strikes me as George Babbitt personified, a man who was raised to truly consider 'Great Businessmen" or 'Landowners' to be the peak of human virtue and social purpose while viewing the State as something that is alien and distant. A man who has gone so long without hearing conservative dogma challenged that he has come to see that dogma as not only correct but beyond legitimate dispute, so that even those who do dispute it are being deliberately wicked. A man who truly considers rural homogeneity to be the eternal American norm and views the reality of urban cosmopolitanism as a false and unnatural thing that could have only come about through intentional act of conspiracy by 'the elites'. He is in short, a true-hearted party man. Or, to say the same thing in another way; a dumb bullying hack who has risen to his level of incompetence. A man who in a less Republican state, or even just a larger state with a larger political talent pool, would either be taking bribes on some suburban city council or selling insurance by day while telling racist jokes over cheap scotch and C & W karaoke by night.
I am rather sick of this guy. But at least he'll be out of Lincoln one way or the other sometime soon.
There is a man building a house by himself. He works in the mornings, mostly, always alone, and apperently needing to be shirtless in order to feel inspired. He hasn't been at it for some weeks now and it may be that even seventy degree weather is already to cold for his bare-chested work. The house looks perfectly livable right now, what he adds to it anymore is mostly anti euclidean ugliness.
He also tends to listen to old school black and power metal while he works, Burzum, Dimmu Borgir, stuff like that. His taste in music sucks and I'm fairly confident that he's an unlikable, but maybe I'm wrong.
About a block to the north of there is an immigrant family from somewhere in the Middle East I think. They moved to the neighborhood in the summer of 11; watching their driveway being poured with great communial fascination. Then they bought a rooster and reenforced the bottom of the fence to keep him inside. The rooster is gone now. Hopefully according to plan instead of some malady that made him inedible.
