Monday, February 13, 2006

"Suck it up, asshole. I've had four heart attacks- cry me a river."


Mondale beat me to the punch with this splendid poem in relation to Vice President Dick Cheney accidentally shooting and wounding his chum while out hunting. It sort of reminds me of this:

The Upper Class Twit of the Year


The more sober story can be found here.

2 comments:

Mary said...

On the subject of poetry here is an extract from a poem by Pablo Neruda

And one morning all that was burning,
one morning the bonfires
leapt out of the earth
devouring human beings
and from then on fire,
gunpowder from then on,
and from then on blood.
Bandits with planes and Moors,
bandits with finger-rings and duchesses,
bandits with black friars spattering blessings
came through the sky to kill children
and the blood of children ran through the streets
without fuss, like children's blood.

Jackals that the jackals would despise
stones that the dry thistle would bite on and spit out,
vipers that the vipers would abominate.

Face to face with you I have seen the blood
of Spain tower like a tide
to drown you in one wave
of pride and knives.

Treacherous
generals:
see my dead house,
look at broken Spain:
from every house burning metal flows
instead of flowers
from every socket of Spain
Spain emerges
and from every dead child a rifle with eyes
and from every crime bullets are born
which will one day find
the bull's eye of your hearts.

And you will ask: why doesn't his poetry
speak of dreams and leaves
and the great volcanoes of his native land.

Come and see the blood in the streets.
Come and see
the blood in the streets.
Come and see the blood
in the streets!*

weasel said...

"Come and see the blood in the streets.
Come and see the blood in the streets.
Come and see the blood in the streets!"

That is no way to get people to come to the circus.

What's the title of this poem, Mary?

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