I was born in the shadow of the most beautiful church ever conceived in America, the First Baptist Church, built by the hale men of New England in 1774. Continue reading
In the New York Times Sunday Magazine, a story about a rising star on the conservative radio circuit, a rotund boy from Iowa who failed at everything until he found religion and his voice, which specializes in spewing resentment and a new brand of meanness. No Republican is pure enough for him but Ted Cruz, he crows while consuming lasagna and iceberg lettuce. In the aggregate, all this appears a thinly disguised form of debauchery, indisputably all-American.
It’s church perfected. Hushed but for the wind, and free of any rules but those that govern nature, with ocean, Atlantic, serene in power, nearby. Continue reading
Another massacre in Paris. But this one vastly more severe than the Charlie Hedbo incident. Hollande blames Isis for attacks as death toll rises to 127, says the headline, which occupies a large part of the computer screen. In his first televised comments, the top French public elected official – a man arguably overcivilized – appears vaguely on the verge of collapse, as though he weren’t equal to the task of dealing, like any good capo di tutti capi, with maniacs of tremendous ferocity. Continue reading
The 21st century currency for saying hello. Continue reading
A president for the people. Continue reading
Pocahontas lives in an artfully decorated domicile cobbled together with found materials. Through the relentless application of gravity, countless nights spent in less than salubrious circumstances, this once lovely girl shapeshifted into bones covered with leathery skin, the majority of teeth missing. Continue reading
Watching these people citizens invest so much hope in, change you can believe in, shove and tweet for the job in the Big Dog House in Washington. A thought arises based on a lifetime of studying history, the original sources, watching presidents from Nixon on. It’s all part of the dead past with a layover of technology, the representatives of the dying Continue reading
An outdoor shrine for the irreligious. Created under the influence of major pot and beer. Then deposited on the corner. The artist signed with hands. Expressed heartfelt sentiments in a simple but effective manner. The real art was selecting the appropriate corner, the right shade of green, the correct sativa.