Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Hanging Out


Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Hunter S. Thompson Quotes



"We are turning into a nation of whimpering slaves to Fear—fear of war, fear of poverty, fear of random terrorism, fear of getting down-sized or fired because of the plunging economy, fear of getting evicted for bad debts or suddenly getting locked up in a military detention camp on vague charges of being a Terrorist sympathizer."


"In a nation ruled by swine, all pigs are upwardly mobile—and the rest of us are fucked until we can put our acts together: not necessarily to win, but mainly to keep from losing completely. We owe that to ourselves and our crippled self-image as something better than a nation of panicked sheep."


"America... just a nation of two hundred million used car salesmen with all the money we need to buy guns and no qualms about killing anybody else in the world who tries to make us uncomfortable."


"I feel the same way about disco as I do about herpes."


"If we get chased out of Iraq with our tail between our legs, that will be the fifth consecutive Third-world country with no hint of a Navy or an Air Force to have whipped us in the past 40 years."


"In four short years he has turned our country from a prosperous nation at peace into a desperately indebted nation at war. But so what? He is the President of the United States, and you're not. Love it or leave it." –on George W. Bush

"Richard Nixon looks like a flaming liberal today, compared to a golem like George Bush. Indeed. Where is Richard Nixon now that we finally need him?"


"Who does vote for these dishonest shitheads?"


"All we have to do is get out and vote, while it's still legal, and we will wash those crooked warmongers out of the White House."

The Ghosts of Self

I’ve got some business that is unknown
to those who are kept close.

Like a lonely pedestrian smacking his worn-out soul,

I walk past the fashion culture. An abstract nebbish,
a solitary voice
crying for a change in nihility.

“There’s tofu melting on the grill,” a wannabe coffin sleeper said.

It must run in the family like West Virginia moonshine dependence.

Fixin’ to die
as the last bounty hunter
tucks in his kid.

A proud parent. A fretless elder
fabricating a connection between past

mistakes and the eternal hunger of
parental aspirations.

Like liquor store
stories,
they’re one and the same.

The bones have left their coats
at the door. Claim tickets stuffed into

eye sockets.

That was the show, bought and paid for.

An amateur, acoustic guitar solo
dedicated to the people with no ears.

The end floats in
as if the clouds brought forth fortified castles

which stand in fortification,
unable to reveal inner secrets.
Castles from a thousand years ago.

At times, the archer waves the village close in.
But the jester distracts like

a bad drug
thumps
one heavy in the head.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

John McCain Loves His Wife

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Brandon Bird