"I'm watching TV in the ruins of my house!"
Articles from Harrangue Man
Ladies PJ pants; blackLong-sleeved collarless black shirt.Black bandaid across second stress scar on face. About to ride a black bike.Black; it's the go to for absence of colour and light for 2017.
Trump and Co. attempting to govern is like 16-year-old me learning to drive in the front paddock in the mini and my nearly driving it into the dam. My father's angry panicked reaction putting me off ever wanting to learn to drive with him again---and ditto for him.I had a look at a righty's blog the other night---all filled with ad hominum anti-Obama attacks.
I hadn't seen the scruff—who looks like Don Music—all morning so I entered the chicken pen to find her thinking her dead and perhaps needing to remove her corpse.As I went in I slipped straight into hyper vigilance—a common trait of PTSD—because of the duck who is no longer here.
I was walking to the laneway between streets when I saw a flicker in my vision then heard a muffled crash.
Whilst we're not Americans America casts a deep shadow and its now rocky governance affects all within. Which is pretty much the entire planet.It's terrifying to go from sanity and technocracy to royal diktat with no basis in fact which is the governance model of Trump.
"No Richard Burton; it's not Wednesday!"Five minutes later he said it again.Later he said in all seriousness "I was trying to stop you being a dick."That's fair feedback.
The duckless chickens are happier now their aquatic oppressor was choppered out by US marines after its regime collapse but instead of the duck looming at the gate it's now the chickens.And it's because of Pringles. I first gave them generic Ps that I did not want, the slices crackled to bits in my palm then scattered across the pen dirt.
I am an inventive cat, oratorically speaking. I can rant and rave (alone) effectively and with great passion for hours at a time if my steam has built and I am in a safe place to blow.I just slipped into it and was building in volume when I saw the ginger cat lift its head from its nap and look into my angry face with deep concern. I felt bad; I forgot about the cats.
Laurie Penny does a fine job reporting from Milo's bus then reflects on his fall and how reality affects those that follow him:"On the Milo Bus with the Lost Boys of America's New Right" by Laurie Penny, Pacific Standard.