jpaulgorman

Frontal depression from the west. To cool this late August early morning. Say that again. Flashes, like bulbs from Hollowood. Thunder drowned out with tunes. Feel it come through. Radar reveals an assurance of red rain. Prosper is getting it good. Tuck the patio tight. High ceilings worth the view. Silly little man. That dude from the Faces. Who wished he wouldn't have quit. Regrets are the worst. The first drop. Out from the dangerous open sky. Flying coffee. Dogs in their inside digs. And water fell and fell. Gravity again. Drenching everything around. Spooked toads hopping crazily. Out of control. Plenty of action with dice chunkers and soldiers. They don't mind getting wet. Plants plan to feed the planet. Lush it up.

Nothing to see here, this boycott is over, a pitiful boycott if you ask me, but I'm a serious boycotter, a boycotter for life when I boycott, a deep grudger, an active consumer enemy of the boycotted.  Consider sucky National Tire And Battery, Inc., a ridiculous excuse for a company.  Forget the details, but they did me wrong in 1994.  Beyond boycotting, I'm directly involved with influencing Discount Tire Company patronage to friends, family, and strangers.  NTB has a crook culture, wrapped in a sneering disdain for the customer, flavored with a general dumbness covering every square foot of every one of their sorry rodent infested smelly establishments. And here it comes, here it comes, here comes your 19th nervous breakdown.  Visions of a massive middle class middle finger, held up high and mighty, woken from leisurely slumber, lurking.  Priorities lost, metaphorically, time to flap it out and flip it off, the middle folks have arrived.  Voices are...

Conventional wisdom indicates the reduction of skill and ethics in the journalism profession is obvious.  However, some take exception to the notion of that notion, pointing out the skill and ethics of the profession had long been pathetic.  Either way, we are changing all that, reporting from the middle, observing the far reaches of the story, understanding what is, so to speak.  Wondering of thoughts and motives, mostly curious about the present and future, history is already known. An upset is imminent, a boycott won't matter.  The old diversions will disappear one by one,  disappear as they were.  Ain't even seen extremely upset yet, reality like a mud puddle to a washed car, when self-control is lost and fairness is demanded.  Not a general fairness, but an edge to make up for previous unfairness, tangible or not, like a super fairness was earned somehow.  Whining to the refs, ranting in the post game pressers, sulking in the hot tubs.  ...

  Either extremely late or extraordinarily early.           It's the same time. Place before about to be and after just was.           There it flew. Intentional actions and occurrences of fate.           Now that's real. Defending the B side of Tattoo You.           Take you to the Tops.

Since you asked, Don't be too irritated by irritations.

   Grateful the Democratic Party was busted by Eisenhower in the 50s and Civil Rights legislation became the law of the land.  Those Democrats were stubborn in their convictions, unsurprisingly ignorant, and without soul.  Similar to the Democrats a century prior, fighting Lincoln and the Republicans to break the Union and create their Confederate nirvana.  What the modern day Democrats see in Communism, I do not know, but it continues a pattern of taking indefensible and dumb positions.  Although the modern Democrats have lost most intellectual credibility, it's hard to believe they had any left to lose.   In 1878, Senator Aaron A. Sargent. (R-CA) initiated a proposal that eventually gave American women of age the right to vote.  However, it took over 40 years to overcome the Democrat's feisty opposition when they gave up their filibuster and the 19th Amendment, the Susan B. Anthony Amendment, was finally ratified in 1920.  Then a decad...

Certainly don't want to court any postal animosity, no confusion regarding envelopes, direct marketing, and graduation announcements to my home address, only respectful admiration to the postpeoples of America, the sorters, the front desk, the drivers, the slotters, the dotters, the entire operation.  Awed by the story of The Pony Express, riding those mustangs from Missouri to California, stables 10 miles apart, toting one revolver, a water pouch, and a mochila containing the sacred communications, usually arriving on the west coast within 7-10 days.  But they closed up operations after telegraph technology progressed, couldn't make money, the business model collapsed, and Buffalo Bill, Johnny Fry, and the Cliff Brothers were out of work, but not for long, they went on to find more lucrative careers anyway.  Like the Pony Express of 160 years ago, we can do without the U.S. Postal Service now, we have FedX, we have UPS, we have Amazon, we have eBills, we have social medi...

Somewhat dumb, and absolutely bold, to blame all viral deaths on one person.  Only the American ones, I guess.  Is the President liable for all the viral deaths in the world too?  It must be a sick life to hope the viral death numbers go up, and likely few are actually hoping for more viral death, but some of these political sleazes seem capable, are capable, and are hoping for more viral death.  It's merely a hunch, a gut feeling, like indigestion almost, like termite rot.     Evidently, we are all fighting for the soul of our nation, and the soul is worthy of the fight.  Different than the body and the mind, it's mysterious and supernatural.  The soul is an essence, eternal, the 7th sense.  Soul has moves, it slides and glides, soul is swayed by the moon, soul is mood, and the mood of the country is vengeance.  In reality, our soul will fight for itself, and win easily.  The soul train will not be stopped. Encouragement is lo...

Checked in with the Warlord, but he skipped town and is working roof replacements in the various hurricane zones of America.  Evidently, makes all his money in 6 months.  Brilliant, leaves plenty of time for Warlording and art projects during the calm season.  Left no number, no location, no nothing, just following hurricane damage, everybody's got to work.  He had mentioned his love of seafood, especially shrimp and lobster, hope he's having a good meal somewhere, roofing is tough work. Brando the dog has lost his hearing, most of his eyesight, much of his balance, but none of his spirit.  Come on, man, keep it up, don't turn into a surly old Shih-Zhu.  Don't snap when surprised, don't try doing things you used to do, enjoy your naps, drink water, keep scratching, be smart.  15 years is a long time for a dog, he's done alot, his dogness is proven.  Rest easy, Brando, rest easy. The West platform is interesting.  Objective form, subjective...

Tops of the trees were burning white.  Sun light glittered and speckled through the leaves, leaving a canopy of perfect natural lighting.  It was clear, the air had the aroma of August, roasted slow, simmering, cooking in its own juices.  Then the wind whirled, everything became dizzy, everything became chaotic, flashes and awful noises.  This was followed by an indefinable moment of a pure peaceful, easy feeling.  Looked up, but could not see.  Listened for sounds, but nothing was heard.  Took a step, but the step didn't find dirt.  Even the aroma of August was gone, only the bitter taste of thirst was left.  Like dreaming, but fully awake.  Like really alive, but only in the mind.  Tools of the skeleton, hands, fingers, feet, legs, all pointless and useless.  Even a shrug was impossible.  Contentment.  This feeling of nothing went away quick, the weirdest thing.  In reality, nothing couldn't go away.  Ther...

GCDC An empty feeling, like nothing. Complete order and assurances. Anxiety lost. If Buddha got a deluxe Swedish massage. If Buddha drank a gallon of green tea. If Buddha stared at a candle flame for an hour. If Buddha went on a 3 mile nature walk. If Buddha took several long deliberate breaths. If Buddha nodded off in a hammock. Even knowledge wouldn't matter. Mind readers would be irrelevant. Motives would be pure. Nothing is fake in dreams, it's all being dreamed.

Surely he will be declared unfit by his own before the fall.  It is only humane, his remaining dignity is at stake.  He worked hard as a public servant for years, he sacrificed opportunity and fortune, he comforted many, the shoulder squeezes, the exhaled deep whispers, let him enjoy the fruits of his labor in his declining years.  The modern American presidency requires a capable warrior, ready for the arrows and punches, ready to punch back, ready to pull the blade of self defense .  Instincts, faculties, active brain cells of memory, discernment, self-control, literal balance, temperament, appearance, it is all being closely evaluated by the passively interested observers. It's come down to a matter of weeks.  When to open the economy, when we get back to normal, essentially, school openings are a proxy.  The shutdown, lockdown, show up for the protest show will continue on into the winter, imagine the bonfires when it gets cold, putting them out would ...