hazy gloom

Conspiracy Theories Abound

Dubya looking earnest

Imagine for a moment that Dubya is as big a megalomaniac as he appears sometimes. Imagine that someone threatens his plans for world domina--I mean, his plans for Democracy for all peoples, under the control of the US. If indeed there were a person who seemed to pose a problem, mightn't it be possible for that person to cease to be--given the right circumstances?

The recent death of Minnesota senator Paul Wellstone makes me uneasy.

Maybe I'm worrying about nothing, but from what I've heard of Wellstone, he would be a vehement critic of Dubya's plans for the invasion of Iraq--if re-elected. Although many Democrats stated that they were opposed to unilateral action during debate in Congress, most voted in favor of the resolution granting Dubya the "all the authority he needs" for an invasion. Wellstone was one of the precious few who actually voted against letting Dubya play big man with world politics.

With Wellstone out of the way, however, Dubya and his hawk cronies are in a much more favorable position to do exactly as they please with nary a whimper from the increasingly cowed Congress.

Now I ain't sayin' Dubya had anything to do with a mysterious plane crash in Northern Minnesota that ever-so-conveniently removed a possible critic--but I ain't sayin' he ain't thrilled it happened neither.

---

Light a candle to remember the dead.

Greetings from Mars

We think it's odd the way
so many of you little things
think you're so big. Such little
tiny specks (from here) just
putting yourselves out as
planets--or suns, or galaxies--
but really, you're not much
more than the (rather infinitesimal)
space you occupy. We suppose
it's the nature of the small
to think large (as if, to borrow
from the most aware of your own
feeble minds, to compensate for
things beyond your actual, 'though
apparently not attempted, control).
There are quite big enough things
in the universe without all your
egos cluttering everything up.

You Are More Than Your Dictionary

Tradition

As drear the lengthy night becomes, we sit
Like cloistered monks amidst our hoary texts
To seek elusive thoughts that fly and flit
Like sparks alive, of minds alight, betwixt.
Our bowéd heads, as deep in prayer, mark lives
Of quiet quest for truest sense, a long
And deeper look at words--not men--alive,
Imbued with human souls--our own, our songs.

Your Birthday Gift to the World

Help put me through graduate school.

Donate to the Funds for Flint (Johnston) Fund. (Yes, we know that's redundant, but we liked the whole alliteration thing.)

The address to send money to is vomissement@hotmail.com. In exchange for your donation, the world will be a far better place, full of fantastic fancies from Flint's flurried fingers.

And if you doubt that, read some previous ponderings on bemuscled boobs.

BIRTHDAY GREETINGS FROM OTHERS

• Grrrrohini!!!!'s journal (check for the 9:55 a.m. entry)
• Danielle's LiveJournal (see the 9:51 a.m. entry; I'm sharing a paragraph with Mr. Rogers)
• an e-mail from Aaron Wood

  Happy Birthday to YOU!
  Happy Birthday to YOU!
  Happy Birthday dear FLI-INT!
  Happy Birthday to YOU!
  

  This singing telegram has been brought to you by Aaron G Wood.