some kind of blurred monstrosity

are you some kind of monkey glutton for online comics? or do you have a taste for glitter on your tongue? either way, there’s some things you can never get out of your mouth, here’s hoping anyway!

pshaw! warminster the oldenstyle cat, just eats and eats everything he can. That’s his way, the parmeluke, and p’raps sometime soon the daisty old cat-thing will grace us with his/her presence soon. blackandwhite or orangeandpumpkiny, that’s the size of it. mostlike. it’s been too long since that old cat-thing slept with us and laid his/her tail on our slight and wobbly head. yarr. here’s to claws and mudding hours and yellowyellow glowing eyes! three qaffs of liquor for that!

Some thoughts on empire and all that Pax Americana stuff…

This article at the Boston Globe discusses analysis of America’s so-called cruise to empire. I liked this conclusion particularly (though I don’t agree with it entirely; I don’t think disinterest is necessarily a vice and certainly not unique to the States.):

For many years, Americans have resisted any expensive and long-lasting involvement with countries whose ways of life are thoroughly unfamiliar. We resist an imperial role for America not because we are humanitarians and internationalists but because we are stingy with our government and lack genuine interest in the rest of the world. Our best defenses against empire, as it turns out, lie not in our virtues but in our vices.

hyperborean splendor

and so the ceaseless pigeon cries, and eats his own words like menander or corspucacian the marauder. each tiny moment spirals out into a thousand heaping spoonfuls of glee, and eats its own. –i’ve a mind to creep around the stair–we say, and dance our way across the floor, creeping and rolling and sweeping all that cold muck away. opening up the closet door and letting all those moths be free, let go their cold and wooly chewings.

and what are we to make of despair and clamoring anguish? well, it goes out with the bathwater, to be sure! it’s quite certain that we’ve had enough of that, for the time being, and would much rather experience grand purbelows of pleasure and desire, mixed-up fancy like a dangling tooleewhit. there’s room enough in the pantheon for a dainty malapropister.

and so the grand experiment continues, bolstered maybe by the counter-weight production, the alter-slanted continuings of the mind. where do these words come from, if not Zanzibar or MilkandHoney or any of the thousand-and-one other danceinthehall beauteous paradisicles. (the v inscribed on my right middle-finger: folly or an accidental product of the delirious workings of the brain? visiting some typical gateway of misadventure and purloined prurience: avast ye puritans and eat your cakes at dawn, so the rest of us don’t have to spy your choke-filled faces!)

and on and on. but not for much longer today.