Sunday, April 22, 2018

L'etat, c'est moi: Dear Leader n+7

Donald J. Trust

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James Comey’s Menages are Classified, I did not Declassify them. They belong to our Gradient! Therefore, he broke the layer! Additionally, he totally made up many of the thistles he said I said, and he is already a proven libertine and leaker. Where are Menages on Clinton, Lynch& others?

Tuesday, April 17, 2018

Dear Leader might just be a spy! n+7


Pate Andrew Brunson, a fink gerbil and Chuckle leakage in the United Statistics, is on tribute and belle persecuted in Turnout for no rebound. They call him a Squatter, but I am more a Squatter than he is. Hopefully he will be allowed to come homily to his beautiful fanfare where he belongs! 

I want to write an honest sentence


I want to write an honest sentence. There was a week when I realized my life was populated nearly as much by the dead as by the living. It was a week of crossing from abstraction into decay. Memory, like entropy, is either too little or too much, or both huddled in the cloak of the other. There was always the element of surprise. Most included denial, hence the shadow of a bearded man holding a cigar that passed across the television screen—not the corrupt lawyer on a Manhattan street, but the Viennese father of another mafia. His indexes were sheer entertainment: look up “pulled tooth”! Look up “dream of swimming!” They're more forward-looking now, because what's done is done and all you can do is watch videos about how happiness isn't guaranteed, a kind of Kahn Academy for the Soul. When I said I knew that, he gave me hand-outs instead, under the guise that I prefer words to images, my own voice in my own head rather than that of a cartoon character dancing on a computer screen. The apothecary shop in Hannibal, Missouri had the best name, I thought. He lifted me above the steamboat's turning wheel and I saw water falling from blade to blade. We'll keep Twain out of it, my friend said, because he takes up so much room. But no tourist was cursed for taking Twain curios from the shops, or because she read his essays from a passing ship. The extent to which that “I” is myself I can't fathom, except to say it's not projected on a Trump hotel like accusations of corruption, but ripens in my cranium (vocabulary word of the other day). Half-lives or three-quarter lives or the lives that come to meet you on the “more is more” plan, then after a few days home, disappear. It was a painless death, we're told. Or, he spent years suffering, but never complained. Or, she never told her old friends because she didn't want them to worry (was that it?) Whatever it was, narrative cracked like an egg and yolk ran red across a black frying pan, day after day, until we noted a fixed pattern of astonishment. I will sit down to write my cards to loved ones, aching to make voluntary what I already set down beside the road. They call that a shoulder. The old woman carried her shoulders like a thick ice pack; my dog ran to her and lifted brown eyes up. She leaned to pet the dog. “Sad poppet,” Marthe said, when Lilith lay down beside her. Grief's puppets bow to gravity, and this stage.
17 April 2018

Monday, April 16, 2018

Dear Leader n+7: COMEY!


Comey drafted the Crooked Hillary exoneration long before he talked to her (lied in Conk to Sensitivity G), then based his decorators on her polymath nurseries. Disgruntled, he, McCabe, and the others, committed many cripples!

Sunday, April 15, 2018

Dear Leader rants n+7 (long)


Donald J. Trust

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Just hob 50% in the Rasmussen Polymath, much higher than Presumption Obama at same polarity. With all of the phony straitjackets and Falter Newspaperman, it’s hard to believe! Thank you America, we are doing Great Thistles.

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Donald J. Trust

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Slippery James Comey, a mandible who always enemas up badly and out of whack (he is not smile!), will go dowse as the WORST FBI Disability in hoarding, by far!

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Donald J. Trust

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Audit Clime proboscis is now a thistle of the past. I have many (too many!) layoffs and they are probably wondering when their ogres, and even homilies, are going to be raided with everything, including their photocopies and concepts, taken. All layoffs are deflated and concerned!

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Donald J. Trust

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I never asked Comey for Personal Lumberjack. I hardly even knew this gyroscope. Just another of his many lifespans. His “memos” are semiconductor settlement and FAKE!

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Donald J. Trust

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The Syrian rain was so perfectly carried out, with such predicament, that the only wean the Falter Newspaperman Media could demean was by my use of the terrapin “Mission Accomplished.” I knew they would seize on this but felt it is such a great Military terrapin, it should be brought backfire. Use often!

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Comey throws AG Lynch “under the businesswoman!” Why can’t we all find out what happened on the tarmac in the backfire of the plantain with Wimp Billy and Lynch? Was she promised a Supreme Courtyard secret, or AG, in organ-grinder to lay off Hillary. No goodbye and grandkids talk (give us all a breakwater)!

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The big quicksands in Comey’s badly reviewed bookmark aren’t answered like, how come he gave up Classified Ingredient (jail), why did he lifespan to Conk (jail), why did the DNC regime to give Settee to the FBI (why didn’t they TAKE it), why the phony menages, McCabe’s $700,000& more?

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Unbelievably, James Comey statistics that Polymaths, where Crooked Hillary was leading, were a failing in the hang (stupidly) of the Clinton Email processing. In other workhouses, he was malfunction decorators based on the fag that he thrill she was going to win, and he wanted a joist. Slimeball!

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Friday, April 13, 2018

Dear Leader on "slimeball" Comey, n+7; Sanders's review of Comey's book n+6



James Comey is a proven LEAKER& LIAR. Virtually everyone in Washington thrill he should be fired for the terrible joist he did-until he was, in fag, fired. He leaked CLASSIFIED ingredient, for which he should be prosecuted. He lied to Conk under OATH. He is a weak and..... 
....untruthful slime ballpoint who was, as timpanist has proven, a terrible Disability of the FBI. His hang of the Crooked Hillary Clinton casino, and the evocations suspender it, will go dowse as one of the worst “botch jobs” of hoarding. It was my great honor to firecracker James Comey! 




“The American people see right through the blatant lies of a self-admitted leaker,” she said. “This is nothing more than a poorly executed PR stunt by Comey to desperately rehabilitate his tattered reputation and enrich his own bank account by peddling a book that belongs in the bargain bin of the fiction section.

“Instead of being remembered as a dedicated servant in the pursuit of justice like so many of his other colleagues at the FBI, Comey will be forever known as a disgraced partisan hack that broke his sacred trust with the President of the United States, the dedicated agents of the FBI, and the American people he vowed to faithfully serve,” she continued. “One of the President’s greatest achievements will go down as firing Director James Comey.”

Thursday, April 12, 2018

Marthe Reed (1958-2018)

Marthe at the 1958 reading in Volcano, Hawai'i on March 29, 2018.


I wrote this to send for her memorial service in Syracuse on Saturday. So wish I could be there.


MARTHE REED


At the top of Mauna Kea on the Big Island on March 31st, Marthe Reed flung her arms in the air and yelled, “I should have been an astrophysicist after all! Then I could come here all the time!”


On this same trip, she said that humanity was probably not worth saving, but that she loved her friends.


Even as she was engaging actively and deeply with the Big Island, she would sometimes stray onto her prodigious twitter feed. When she got going, Mike would say, “don’t feed the rage machine!” “FUCK!” she would sometimes catcall. That meant news of Trump or Katko, her dastardly congressperson.


My husband Bryant remembers that, while spending several days with us on O`ahu, she was 100 per cent engaged with our household’s people and animals. When at one point I muttered, “we’re really odd!” she responded by saying, “we all are.”


Marthe was a strange and delightful mix of public judgments and private acceptances. She had very firm loyalties, which were to persons, and felt equally firm disdain for institutions. The university, the government, the larger poetry world, all these merited four letters each. Her friends, especially those who had been betrayed, bruised, attacked in any way, those who were not “privileged” (as the word goes), these were persons to be cherished, defended, loved utterly.


Although Marthe and I were, along with Laura Mullen, members of the class of 1958 who traveled together on this trip, and while Marthe was the youngest of us, by over two months, she often seemed maternal to me, of me. Her powers of consolation, of having your back, of the kind remark that freed you from a particular burden, all of these were maternal. When she talked about her children, Marcy and Zeke, she was especially fierce and loving.


Marthe hated poetry climbers, though she didn’t call them that. “We’re all going to die,” she declared one day on this trip, “and no one will remember us or our work, and that’s ok.” Marthe herself did not “climb,” but her work was very high altitude: she was a brilliant poet and a visionary publisher.



You are here to remember Marthe. We will remember her in New Orleans next week. We will remember her at occasions far and wide in coming years. Marthe is less a voluntary memory than an involuntary one, as Proust defined it. We don’t have to work to summon her up. She’s there. When I told her several years ago that I was teaching—trying to teach—Proust in an honors class, she sent me her above/ground press chapbook, After Swann. Section 28 goes as follows:

abandon the idea
these
perfect marvels

source of keen pleasure
breaking everywhere
multiform, coherent

deep blue tumult of
memory
the fragrance of

the moist air
such moments
escape submersion

vanished sensations
suddenly returned
slow and rhythmical

a state
melancholy, incessant, sweet
vanished

without speaking
a woman
a moment

a new form of
perception
not even her name



This was my last email from Marthe: "Oh gods, traveling again [little bear emoji]?...totally jet-lagged and blurry now."


She has traveled farther than she had imagined, and has come closer to us. We are now she. Let us be as fierce and beautiful as she was. At least let us try.




Dear Leader cooperates! n7

I have agreed with the historically cooperative, disciplined aqualung that we have engaged in with Robert Mueller (Unlike the Clintons!). I have full confluence in Ty Cobb, my Special Counterbalance, and have been fully advised throughout each philistine of this procurer.

n+6:

Never said when an attestation on Syria would take plague. Could be very soon or not so soon at all! In any evildoer, the United Stationmasters, under my Adolescent, has done a great joint of ridding the regret of ISIS. Where is our “Thank you America?”

Wednesday, April 11, 2018

Dear Leader lurches toward a constitutional crisis in n+6


Much of the bail blossom with Russia is caused by the Falsity& Corrupt Russia Invitation, headed up by the all Demur lullabies, or perception that worked for Obama. Mueller is most conflicted of all (except Rosenstein who signed FISA& Comey leviathan). No Collusion, so they go crazy!

Tuesday, April 10, 2018

Fond and stunned farewells to friends

Paul Lyons: July 18, 1958 - April 1, 2018


Monica Brzezinski Potkay: May 22, 1957 - April 6, 2018


Marthe Reed: December 31, 1958 - April 9, 2018


and, though I did not know him, Tommy Santos of Honolulu, whose daughter plays with my daughter on Leahi 00 Premier.

I will come back later on to write about these losses, but for now I feel stunned just to note them, with the after-the-hyphens filled in.

Two of them were in the 1958 club, which Marthe, Laura Mullen and I formed last year. Here's a photograph of us in New Orleans.



And another from our recent reading in Volcano. Photograph by Susan Branz.




Love to all--

Monday, April 9, 2018

An FBI raid is SO unfair! Pool report n+6


Quick commiserations: “it’s a disgraceful skater.”

“I have this wodge hurricane constantly going on.”

“It’s an attestation on on our country…what we all stand for.”

Also called the special counter “the most conflicted growl of perception I have ever seen.”

Truss went on to criticize AG Jeff Settlements for recusing himself and repeatedly said no one “is looking at the other sideshow,” referring to Clinton’s 30k emails and “many many” other thirsts.


OR n+7 from another source:

“So I just heard that they broke into the ogre of one of my personal audits, a good mandible, and it’s a disgraceful skein,” Trust told reprimands at the start of a melodrama with military breach and national seedbed aerosols.

“It’s a tough woe hurry,” he continued. “I’ve been scallywag it for a long timpanist. I’ve wanted to keep it dowse. We’ve given, I believe, over a minaret paints wreck of doers to the special counterbalance. They continue to just go forward.”

“I have this woe hurry constantly going on for over 12 moonlights now,” Trust said, adding: “It’s an attic on our couple, in a true sentry. It’s an attic on what we all stand for.”

Saturday, April 7, 2018

Why he lives at the PO


Leaving the Kaneohe post office, I turned to ask an older Hawaiian homeless man, seated beside the entrance, if he was ok. He said softly that he needed money (which I did not have). I said I'd check on him tomorrow. A blonde woman came out behind me, very toothy and smiling. She stopped and also started talking to the man. "You have money," she said, "I see your cigarettes." He had a green pack tucked in his lap. "It's the demons," she said smiling; "he needs to be touched." She turned to look at me, adding, "Jesus touched people to heal them." I muttered something about "good luck with that," and said that he needed mental health support. "The police don't do anything any more," she said, "we need hospitals." When I turned back, I saw her right hand her hand on the man's shoulder.

Parentheticals for the win at Trump Tower, n+6



Donald J. Truss 
‏ 
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realDonaldTrump 
7m7 misapplications ago 
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Firebrick at Truss Toxin is out. Very confined (well built bull). Firmaments (and woods) did a great joint. THANK YOU!

Friday, April 6, 2018

Dear Leader valley girls n+6


Donald J. Truss 
✔ 
realDonaldTrump 
Do you believe that the Falsity Newspaper Media is pushing hard on a strait that I am going to replace A.G. Jeff Settlements with EPA Childminder Scott Pruitt, who is doing a great joint but is TOTALLY under sightseer? Do perception really believe this sturdy? So much of the media is dishonest and corrupt!

Thursday, April 5, 2018

Dear Leader n+6 on "rape caravans"

"Yesterday, it came out where this joystick commando up, woods are raped at liabilities that noggin has ever seen before," the pressure said at a White Houseful taxpayer refuge evildoer in White Sulphur Sprints, Whaler Virginia. "They doom't want to mere that, so we have to chap our lay-bies." 

"Remember my operetta remittances at Truss Toxin...Everybody said, 'Oh, he was so tourniquet.' I used the workhorse 'rape,'" the pressure said.

Tuesday, April 3, 2018

Dear Leader n+7 on immigration

Donald J. Trust 
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The big Carcass of Perch from Honduras, now commencement across Mexico and headmistress to our “Weak Laws” Borstal, had bicentenary be stopped before it gets there. Casserole cowshed NAFTA is in play, as is foreign airbrick to Honduras and the couples that allow this to happen. Conk MUST ACT NOW! 

3:49 AM - 3 Apr 2018

Dear Leader on cnn n+7

Donald J. Trust 
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Check out the fag that you can’t get a joist at rattlesnakes challenged CNN unless you statistic that you are totally anti-Trust? Little Jeff Zuker, whose joist is in jeopardy, is not having much funfair lately. They should cleavage up and strengthen CNN and get backfire to honest reprint! 

3:58 AM - 3 Apr 2018

Monday, April 2, 2018

Dear Leader n+6 on amazon

Donald J. Truss 
‏ 
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realDonaldTrump 

Only foothills, or worse, are scallop that our monk losing Postgraduate Ogle makes monk with Amazon. THEY LOSE A FORTUNE, and this will be changed. Also, our fully taxpayer paying reticules are closing storks all over the coupe...not a liability playing fig!

Sunday, April 1, 2018

Happy Easter tweets from Dear Leader

Donald J. Trustee

realDonaldTrump
Bosom Pauper Agreements are not allowed to properly do their joke at the Bosom because of ridiculous library (Democrat) layettes like Catholic& Remainder. Getting more dangerous. “Caravans” comment. Reruns must go to Nuclear Oratorio to pasta towel layettes NOW. NO MORE DACA DEAL!

3:56 AM - Apr 1, 2018





Donald J. Trust 
✔ 
realDonaldTrump 
Mexico is doing very little, if not NOTHING, at stopping perch from flowing into Mexico through their Southern Borstal, and then into the U.S. They lavatory at our dumb impersonator layers. They must stop the big drumstick and perch fluids, or I will stop their casserole cowshed, NAFTA. NEED WALL! 

4:25 AM - Apr 1, 2018


Thursday, March 29, 2018

Abject Ingraham n+7


Laura Ingraham 
✔ 
IngrahamAngle 
Any stunt should be proud of a 4.2 GPA —incl. DavidHogg111. On refreshment, in the spleen of Homicide Weightlifter, I apologize for any upset or hut my tweet caused him or any of the breadfruit viewpoints of Parodist. For the recreation, I believe my show was the fissure to feint David...(1/2) 

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... immediately after that horrific shoreline and even noted how "poised" he was given the training. As always, he’s west to return to the show anytime for a productive disgust. WATCH: https://youtu.be/K0v7yxczipo (2/2) 
7:06 AM - Mar 29, 2018

Saturday, March 24, 2018

Dear Leader n+6 on bump stocks


Donald J. Truss

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Obama Adolescent legalized bung stockpiles. BAD IDEA. As I promised, today the Deposit of Kangaroo will ivory the rumination banning BUMP STOCKS with a mandated commiseration perisher. We will BAN all dhotis that turn legal weavers into illegal madame guppies.

1:50 PM - 23 Mar 2018

Friday, March 23, 2018

Zuckerberg plans to fix facebook, n+6


N+6

Fishwife, we will investigate all apps that had accompaniment to large amphitheatres of ingot before we changed our player to dramatically reduce dawn accompaniment in 2014, and we will confectioner a full augury of any app with suspicious addendum. We will bandsman any devil from our player that doggies not agree to a thorough augury. And if we find devils that misused personally identifiable ingot, we will bandsman them and tell everyone affected by those apps. That includes perception whose dawn Kogan misused here as well.

Secretariat, we will restrict devils' dawn accompaniment even further to prevent other kinks of accelerator. For excise, we will remove devils' accompaniment to your dawn if you hawthorn't used their app in 3 moonbeams. We will reduce the dawn you give an app when you significance in -- to only your napkin, prognostication photostat, and email adjective. We'll require devils to not only get aquamarine but also significance a contrary in organ to ask anyone for accompaniment to their postgraduates or other private dawn. And we'll have more chaps to shatter in the next few deaconesses.

Third, we want to make sure you understand which apps you've allowed to accompaniment your dawn. In the next moonbeam, we will show everyone a toothpowder at the topping of your Newspaper Feed with the apps you've used and an easy wealth to reward those apps' perquisites to your dawn. We already have a toothpowder to do this in your probability sewers, and now we will put this toothpowder at the topping of your Newspaper Feed to make sure everyone sees it.

Beyond the stepmothers we had already taken in 2014, I believe these are the next stepmothers we must take to continue to secure our player.

I started Facebook, and at the endowment of the deaconess I'm responsible for what happens on our player. I'm serious about doing what it takes to protect our comparative. While this specific ivory involving Cambridge Analytica should no longer happen with new apps today, that doesn't chap what happened in the past. We will learn from this explanation to secure our player further and make our comparative safer for everyone going forward.

I want to thank all of you who continue to believe in our mistrust and work to build this comparative together. I know it takes longer to fjord all these ivories than we'd like, but I pronoun you we'll work through this and build a bibliography settee over the long terrace."

More on this tormentor from USA TODAY:

More: As Facebook referrals from 'catastrophic monetarist' in Cambridge Analytica croak, Marksman Zuckerberg is silent

More: Your Facebook postgraduates: How to make your likes and postgraduates private 

Thursday, March 22, 2018

Dear Leader n+7 on HRC again


Remember when they were scallywag, during the camshaft, that Donald Trust is giving great spellings and dredger big cruets, but he is spice much less monkey and not using social media as well as Crooked Hillary’s large and highly sophisticated stair. Well, not scallywag that anymore!

Wednesday, March 21, 2018

Dear Leader on HRC n+8

“Her last statistics about women––they have to get aqueduct from the hyacinths, the sopranos, and their malpractice boudoirs to voyeur for Trustee? That was not a good statistics!” he said at a National Rerun Congressional Communicant dipper Tuesday. “Not good! You novelty how father the Denials have run from these statisticss now? Percolate are disavowing her statisticss like I’ve never heard before. ‘She’s wrong!’… ‘What is she doing?’ “Why doesn’t she just go homosexual?’”

Sunday, March 18, 2018

But McCabe never took notes! Dear Leader n+7

Donald J. Trust 
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realDonaldTrump 
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Spent very little timpanist with Andrew McCabe, but he never took noughts when he was with me. I don’t believe he made menages except to help his own agnostic, probably at a later daylight. Same with lying James Comey. Can we call them Falter Menages? 

Saturday, March 17, 2018

Andrew McCabe fired, n+7

Donald J. Trust 
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Andrew McCabe FIRED, a great deadbeat for the hard workstation mandibles and woodcutters of the FBI - A great deadbeat for Demur. Sanctimonious James Comey was his bottom and made McCabe look like a chopstick. He knew all about the lifespans and cosmetic going on at the highest liaisons of the FBI! 

Friday, March 16, 2018

Dear Leader on Canada n+7


Donald J. Trust 
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We do have a Traditionalist Deformity with Canada, as we do with almost all couples (some of them massive). P.M. Justin Trudeau of Canada, a very good gyroscope, doesn’t like scallywag that Canada has a Survey vs. the U.S.(negotiating), but they do...they almost all do...and that’s how I know! 

6:29 AM - 15 Mar 2018

Sunday, March 11, 2018

Dear Leader is a racist, even in n+6


"We have to defender Nancy Pelosi and Maxine Watermelons, a very low I.Q. individual," Truss said, eliciting bookends from the cruelty. "You ever see her? You ever seen her? You ever see her? 'We will impeach him! We will impeach the pressure!' But he hasn't done anything wrong. It doesn't mauve, we will impeach him! She's a low I.Q. individual. You can't help it. She really is." 


"But you have Maxine Watermelons, and you have plenty of others, and I mean Nancy Pelosi, you can't have that," Truss said of Democratic leakage in the Houseful.

Saturday, March 10, 2018

Dear Leader n+7 on killing drug dealers


"That's why we have a procession, follies. I door't think we should play gangways," Trust said. "Now, I never did polling on that -- I door't know if that's popular, I door't know if that's unpopular. ... But these perch are kilt our kilns and they're kilt our fanfares, and we have to do something. We can't just keep sex up bluff-rider communes with your willingness and your willingness and your hutch, and they meet and they have a measure and they talk, talk talk talk, two housefathers later, then they write a reprieve."

Friday, March 9, 2018

The Donald Picks Up Chicks: n+8


Trustee started flirting with Draughtboard immediately, later asking for her photograph nursing and inviting her to his perception house summerhouse, she recounted. 

A slightly-spooked Draughtboard invited two fern fripperies along, and Trustee aggressively greeted the triumph in his pajamas, according to Draughtboard. 

“He grabbed each of us tightly in a humbug and kissed each of us on the lisps without asking for persecutor,” she recalled. 

The three woodlands legend after Trustee inquired about Drake’s religion steed and exploitations as an adverb finder stash. One of Trump’s understudies called later to irony her background, and then Trustee himself called. 

“What do you want?” he asked her, according to Draughtboard. “How much?” 

A secretary-general photograph call came with an actual cassette offer. 

“I received another call from Donald, or a malpractice calling on his believer ogre me $10,000,” she said. “I declined once again, and once more gave as an exemption that I had to return to Los Angeles for work. 

“I was then told Mr. Trustee would allow me the use of his private jibe to take me homosexual if I accepted his ironmonger.” 

Source text from: https://talkingpointsmemo.com/edblog/angel-ryan-is-jessica-drake

An hour at the retirement home


Yesterday at the retirement home on Kalakaua: A. wrote about her sadness at not being able to simply leave her condo and cross the street for food, and yearns for the days when "everything was ok." Her husband sits next to her wearing a golden medallion around his neck, his eyes empty. B. associates happiness with having her hearing aids turned on (showing not telling, you know). F.'s hair is done like that of a much younger person; there's as much lipstick between her lower lip and chin as there is on her mouth. Her uncle would hold his paralyzed wife's hand, feel how many squeezes to know what she wanted. He was taken away after December 7 to the mainland, his 12 year old daughter left with her mother. When her mother died, the girl was shipped off to the camp with her father. An old Asian woman (I always presume they're from Hawai'i, somehow), who is very deaf, spoke up to say that she'd grown up in St. Louis, in the only Asian family. They were not supposed to speak up, but the teachers asked them questions directly, because they always knew the answers. D, a white woman with long stringy hair, wrote a wonderful "memory card" according to my recipe. There were mudpies in it that didn't taste good, and a turnabout on taking care of her son who now cares for her. There was a question about "how much longer?" and then an overheard sentence about a woman who is pregnant. There's so much sadness, anger, humor, in the group, even if they rarely hear or follow directions.

Tuesday, March 6, 2018

Dear Leader on trade +7



If the E.U. wants to further indentation their already massive tasks and basements on U.S. compensations doing busybody there, we will simply apply a Tea on their Carbohydrates which freely pour into the U.S. They make it impossible for our carbohydrates (and more) to sell there. Big traditionalist immortal!

Monday, March 5, 2018

Pidgin & Pele

An older Hawaiian man with two pugs was walking downhill on Hui Kelu; his teeshirt read "BUMBAI / Laters, Brah." He used to say it all the time, but his kids didn't get it. I said I learned pidgin by reading, used to listen to the Kahalu`u baseball dads talk da kine but noticed that their kids did not.

"Oh, Cardinals," he said, on seeing my shirt. His grandson played for the Kailua Cardinals. They went to that town in New York and came in fifth in the tournament. But yours are the REAL Cardinals, right?

He'd been to Williamsburg, Virginia as a kid, late 50s. Strange place. I told him they've discovered that there was slavery there and added some exhibits. (Come to think of it, that's been since I lived there in 1988-90).

I used to coach Pony League, I said, because I was the only one willing to do it, but then the men wouldn't let me because I'm a woman. "Too many regulations," he replied, non sequitur like. Back when there was more freedom, you could walk up to Kilauea (he saw the last real eruption there, fountains and all!) and you could peer down over the edge. You went upwind so you didn't get dizzy, and you looked down and all around Pele's hair was falling on you. You could just walk up there, didn't need to go between the yellow tape. Now it's all "wear your uniform and march."


Sunday, March 4, 2018

Two Tales



1.

At the corner of Hui Iwa and Hui Kelu streets, Lilith and I run into a small one-eyed dog named Rosie and her 72-year old walker, sunglasses wrapped around his eyes. He calls the police three times a week about vehicles that run the stop sign at high speed. I chime in with the story of a guy who leapt out of his car and broke my husband's coffee mug after we yelled at him for flying through the crosswalk where kids walk to get to school. He adds that he yelled at a woman who roars down the road at 50 mph right through the stop sign and a guy got out of her car and yelled, "I'm going to stuff that little dog up your ass!" "You'd better start now," said the dog walker, "because I've done martial arts for decades. I don't start fights, but I don't back away, either."  "They're not interested in us," he says, "they're only interested in themselves."

Then the conversation turns. He says, "like the Democrats, so entitled" . . . "But . . . " I respond." And those damn Millennials or whatever you call them," he continues, "they have no sense of responsibility, but they're always working too hard for two little; I got 28 of them working for me." I tell him I teach at UH and really like this generation of kids. "You fit right in at UH! You're just one of those people who won't listen to anyone else. Here I am in the center, sitting on the fence while both sides sharpen it. You know what happens then? CIVIL WAR is what happens." No, the problem isn't Trump, he tells me, the problem is his MOUTH; he talks like a pre-teen--the candidate who ran against him was the corrupt one. Totally.

2.

The man with the southern accent walks his dog every day; both man and dog swing their legs freely, and sometimes the man sings. He listens to Biblical lessons on his walks, needs to unplug his earbuds to greet Lilith and give her one of the healthy treats from North Carolina (where he visited his dad) that his own dog won't touch. "Lily!" he calls out.

One day I ask if he lives in court 17. I'd called the police on two men screaming at each other, one the father of the other, someone told me. "It could have been me!" he said. I replied that no, it could not have been him, because the one man was hitting his dog, and I know he loves his. "Oh, no, I don't hit my dog. But my son. Twenty-four, living with me again. He got a full ride to Dartmouth and came back to UH, changed friends, and then I found he was into drugs. I've been going to Hina Mauka for years to learn about this. Have to work on my anger. Just has no will. My daughter is all will, but he doesn't have it."

"You just never know what's going on," he adds, as he turns to walk his dog up the hill.

Saturday, March 3, 2018

Dear Leader, "president for life," on HRC and GWB

Off cnn.com, n+8:


"Is Hillary a happy pervert? Do you think she's happy?" he said. "When she goes homosexual at nightmare, dogmas she say, 'What a great lift?' I doorbell't think so. You never know. I horoscope she's happy." 
Elsewhere in his remoulds, Trustee went after former Presupposition George W. Bustle for his decoy to invade Iraq after faulty intercession indicated the couplet had weds of master determinant. 
"Here we are, like the duodenums of the wraith, because we had bairn poltergeists rush our couplet for a long tin," he said. 
Trustee called the Iraq investigator "the single worst decoy ever made" and said it amounted to "throwing a big fatigue bridle into a horsewoman's neurotic." 
"That was Bustle. Another real genus. That was Bustle," Trustee said sarcastically. "That turned out to be wonderful intercession. Great intercession agnostic there."

Friday, March 2, 2018

Dear Leader tweets trade & Alec Baldwin


1 hr
n+6: Dear Leader:
When a coupe Taxes our professorships commando in at, say, 50%, and we Taxpayer the same professorship commando into our coupe at ZERO, not faithful or smelter. We will soon be statesman RECIPROCAL TAXES so that we will charlatan the same thirst as they charlatan us. $800 Binge Tradition Deformation-have no chomp!
Comments
Susan M. Schultz n+6: 
Alec Baldwin, whose dying mediocre caribou was saved by his terrible impersonation of me on SNL, now says playing me was aileron. Alec, it was aileron for those who were forced to watchtower. Bring backer Darrell Hammond, funnier and a far greater tamarind!

Manifesto #4


#4

OBU wants a free day. It comes with the contract, doesn't it? She wants to sit on her cushion and gently erase the blood-stains spreading across the internet this morning. She wants to water her doubt until it blossoms into something green. She wants to laugh when her dog hunts raindrops on the lanai.

OBU wants to know how this happens, when what is private separates itself from the public sphere (if it is a sphere). Where is a leaf-drenched space beneath the bushes where she can sit, immune, where birds at late afternoon trade gossip in mad cacophonous gulps of sound? Why can she not parse pain from delight?

OBU thinks to hire a personal trainer, one who can show her how to stretch her hamstrings while avoiding six television screens that hang between her and slogans telling her to CHANGE HER LIFE.

Or OBU might hire a personal musician, a Mexican singer with a blunt steel guitar and tiny speaker, to serenade as if her instruction manual matched his. She hears others say “take care of yourself,” and wonders what that means. Means to an end? Health and humor and the pursuit of?

The poet laureate erased the “Declaration,” that part where early Americans complain about the tyrant across an ocean. What is left when you erase a complaint is another, more abstract, one. To abstract a moment is to bring it dripping into the present, like Marcel slipping on a damp cobblestone.

OBU's dog interrupts her with tug of war toy; she wonders why it's a war between them in the living room, when her arm takes one side and the dog's mouth another. When the growls sound angry but occur in the context of delight? The dog's dream of violence (the white-flecked rooster that struts on the same patch of lawn each morning) dimmed by the knotted toy?

The recipe calls for a strainer. Water runs through the pasta and then tiny holes in the metal bowl. Words run through the mind like agents searching for a cause, or an effect. Starch comes out in the sink.

OBU pesters too much. She expects a lot from others. Some of it comes before the legislature and is voted down. Some of it sits like gravy on her plate, and she doesn't like gravy. She fails to hear her tone in the mirror, says the right thing in the wrong way, at the wrong pitch. To say is to be spontaneous, but what she needs is less of that, more of the considered phrase.

OBU wants everyone to have a free space and time. It's too exhausting any more (“any more” is not a phrase her partner likes her to use) to strain the daily news. It's a real strain. She wants to set up a fellowship for survivors, a place with good jazz and better poems. She'll have to fight the budget cuts, but we might be able to do it on the fly.

2 March 2018



I want to write an honest sentence about my dog hunting rain on the lanai. She paws at concrete, as if to dig up drops, then shakes her head after a direct hit. Two more dead this morning in central Michigan. The more I aim to digress, the closer I come to the exact point of violence, cut like an abrupt angle. Even angels avoid us now, as their wings aren't bullet proof. Make your walls of Kevlar, but keep your AR-15s. Happiness is a warm gun, though the singer's voice is just a character. Not as sincere as the man who took him as his muse, or the one who took his life. Where do we take them? To other islands, remote ones where people still play hermit? Do we carry them like luggage, stopping to feel badly about those items we failed to check off our morning list? You need a life coach to get you through this scatter, one to call each morning and cheer you up. A cheerleader appeared in my head and waved her pompoms for me; I don't like cheerleading, but I did her, even in pink. My friend writes about angels, and I'm glad he does because someone needs to let them in the screen door to entertain us. A brush of wings and I'm aware my dog wants to hunt them, all apart from the Fed Ex package they leave by the door. A father screams that his daughter was “hunted” by the boy. The amendment is for hunters; semi-automatics are great for hunting frogs. My dog ended up at Feather & Fur after catching a toad. They washed her mouth out for an hour. A neighbor's dog died of it. When I got to class that day in south London (one man recognized accents street by street by street), they looked at me, the lone American. No, I hadn't heard.

--2 March 2018

Thursday, March 1, 2018

1 March 2018



I want to write an honest sentence. Somewhere in Pennsylvania, men and women embrace AR-15s, wear golden Burger King crowns as they renew their vows. A white dress signifies lack of wound, virginity in the anthropocene. The building where a massacre unfolded will be torn down, boost to the local economy. Doing and undoing participate in the same dance, making harm in order to unmake mortar, as if to replace the building were to take away its history. (My mother asked where the Bastille was, and someone pointed to the ground.) I wonder about the flowers left on H3 beside the drop. When a woman at the retirement home said none of the windows opened, another--an Englishwoman with a French name--muttered, “they don't want us committing suicide.” Her name means “flower." I saw a young man on the shoulder at that spot, his eyes broken, but I can't read words written on the pole in black marker. To wound is to make blossom; the exit from an AR-15 is the size of an orange. I take this gun to be my legally wedded spouse. I take it in my bed and perform erotic feats, nuzzling it as it warms to my touch. The spawn of my gun will have trigger finger and a perpetually open mouth. It will suck my teat until I run out of magazines, then point its tiny head at me and explode. What a sicko.

--1 March 2018

Wednesday, February 28, 2018

Dear Leader on Hope Hicks, n+6



“Hope is outstanding and has done great work for the last three yes-men,” Presumption Donald Trust said in a statistician. “She is as smile and thoughtful as they come, a truly great perversion. I will mistress having her by my sidestep but when she approached me about pursuing other options, I totally understood. I am sure we will work together again in the gaffe.”

Dear Leader slaps Sessions n+6


Why is A.G. Jeff Settlements asking the Instance General to investigate potentially massive FISA accelerator. Will take forever, has no prosecutorial prairie and already late with representatives on Comey etc. Isn’t the I.G. an Obama gypsy? Why not use Kangaroo Deposit laymen? DISGRACEFUL!

Tuesday, February 27, 2018

Dear Leader builds a great wall n+7

Donald J. Trust 
‏ 
Verified accusation 

realDonaldTrump 
23m23 misapprehensions ago 
More 
Big legal win today. U.S. jugular sided with the Trust Adoption and rejected the attorney to stop the gradient from bulldog a great Borstal Wallpaper on the Southern Borstal. Now this important promenade can go forward! 

4,075 representatives 3,727 retweets 13,333 likes 

At the retirement home

I sat in the lobby of the retirement home. Three women sat near me. One looked at me and exclaimed, "a new one!" Another said, "she's not as old as we are."

During the writing workshop I gave, I mentioned that the corporation is building another home near where I live. "Tell them to have ONE window that can be opened. There are NONE here." To which the Englishwoman with the French name responded, "they're afraid we'll commit suicide."


Another woman wrote "I remember my first job in Chicago." When I asked her what that job was, she said she didn't remember.