As for the Republicans — how can one regard seriously a frightened, greedy, nostalgic huddle of tradesmen and lucky idlers who shut their eyes to history and science, steel their emotions against decent human sympathy, cling to sordid and provincial ideals exalting sheer acquisitiveness and condoning artificial hardship for the non-materially-shrewd, dwell smugly and sentimentally in a distorted dream-cosmos of outmoded phrases and principles and attitudes based on the bygone agricultural-handicraft world, and revel in (consciously or unconsciously) mendacious assumptions (such as the notion that real liberty is synonymous with the single detail of unrestricted economic license or that a rational planning of resource-distribution would contravene some vague and mystical American heritage) utterly contrary to fact and without the slightest foundation in human experience? Intellectually, the Republican idea deserves the tolerance and respect one gives to the dead.
- HP Lovecraft, 1936
Erin, being the awesome wife she is, got me this stuff for Father’s Day:
Listening to Leatherface reminds me of watching the movie Bronson. This song in particular, Sound Bites, makes me want to drive fast, windows open and singing along.
This is the guilt end of the wedge, an average grey story
Of the revolutionary who was boring too.
This is the spilt milk stain of a wretch, an average cold walk home.
Avoiding the sunspots, soundbites like snowstorms.
Today makes me wonder whether things happen for an ultimate reason, or if the world is chaos.
A defaced entry in Wikipedia proved that it is both. The bolded phrase was edited out immediately after I took this screen shot. I can not find a record of it being edited in or out.
I love you all so so much.