Monthly Archives: January 2010

Elected Political Scene at Start of 2010

Much of the American political right is now populated with mediocre minds who subscribe to the “When in trouble, when in doubt, run in circles, scream and shout” school of civic philosophy.

On health care, for example, these small minded office holders simply do not have a grasp of the practical solutions long since in place in every other industrialized nation. The irony is that big pharma and their lobbyists are in fact global and much more sophisticated – – so they can simply sit back and make fools of our parochial elected officials while lining their own pockets.

The really dangerous part is that these elected numbskulls know they are all surface and no depth, and when they are forced to interact with a few minds of some genuine distinction their impulse/strategy is to sabotage rather than to creatively engage such opportunities. Hence the rise of the teabaggers and those calling for Obama’s Waterloo, etc. (I also happen to believe that racism is a more deeply embedded and potent psychosis in this country than will ever be admitted, even as it keeps bursting forth in endless gaffes that no one in the public sphere really knows how to handle.)

We focus on the half-baked Alaskan (splendid phrase from blogger Leon Sterling) for the jackass she is, but we do not denounce the Republicans, given their candidate’s age and health, for the lunacy of attempting to place her a heartbeat away from the presidency.


White House 2009 Christmas Card

…Then Again, This Is What Each Year, Day, Moment Is About

Of asphodel, that greeny flower,
I come, my sweet,
to sing to you!
My heart rouses
thinking to bring you news
of something
that concerns you
and concerns many men. Look at
what passes for the new.
You will not find it there but in
despised poems.
It is difficult
to get the news from poems
yet men die miserably every day
for lack
of what is found there.

-William Carlos Williams

(Passage from a longer poem)

Found This Poem New Year’s Day

A charming little poem, nostalgic, resonant. The purple ink stain feels like a bit of time travel.

Un Enfant Veut Répondre

Un enfant veut répondre
Il a levé le doigt
Dans une vieille école
Qui n’existe plus.
La neige a fondu sous les bancs
Il fait chaud comme à l’écurie
Et l’instituteur
A souligné tous les verbes à la craie bleue.
L’enfant qui veut répondre
Fait claquer ses doigts
Tachés d’encre violette
Dans la vieille école
Qui n’existe plus.

– Paul Vincensini

And an 1870 New Year’s Day Scene