Desire Armed

To the hard of hearing you shout, and for the almost-blind you draw large and startling figures.

Flannery O'Connor

She was a prophet of Grace. I've attached one of her best stories. Feel free to enjoy it.

(found here)

PAINTING THE CHRISTMAS TREE:

In my odyssey of dead end jobs,
cursed by whatever gods
do not console,
I end up
at a place that makes
fake Christmas trees:
thousands!
some pink, some blue,
one that revolves ever so slowly
to the strains of Silent Night.

I found myself behind this truck the other day. I also found myself contemplating how the owner decided to put this on the back of his truck.

"Hey Bob. I got a great idea for my truck...."

This post from his blog is definitely worth reading, and these posts break the silence I've endured from him since December.

Caught this one TV the other day. Maybe Obama is the Antichrist.

Seriously, this is what his new wife has to say:

My name is Jessica Edwards, previously Cartwright, as of April 25, 2009 I have been legally married to Justin L Edwards and our lives have been changed forever, in the best way possible, He is the best in every way!

I'm happy for him. Though, I will miss living with Justin. To this day, he is the best room-mate I have ever had.

An interesting piece, by the poet Joe Weil.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the cultural stereotype of the drunk, yet charming and unforgettable Irish man. Frank Mc Court made a fortune writing about his alcoholic father, this man comprised of blarney, bone crushing loss, a stubborn pride, sentimental religiosity/ patriotism, and epic ineffectuality, a sort of travesty of Christ: full prude, and full rake. The classical Irish drunk never loses his sense of righteousness even as he is stumbling through whore houses, breaking his wife’s jaw, and his children’s hearts, and basically telling enough sad and funny tales to keep the pints flowing. (In AA they define the alchoholic as an ego maniac with an inferiority complex) If he’d been there when Christ addressed the crowd on behalf of the woman taken in adultery, he’d have offered to marry her on the spot (broad gestures of senseless acts of gallantry are this man’s meat and potatoes) or thrown his rock and, for the price of a whiskey, been willing to go into great scatological and theological detail as to why he felt worthy to stone the woman. He is a great figure in the hands of good writers and, if you are neither his wife nor his offspring, you can love him as a sort of disruption of the cosmic order (which in the terms of spiritual comedy, is exactly his function: he shows us what the rules are, and tests their merits and flimsiness, by breaking them). At the same time, he is a figure of purgation—what must be destroyed, expelled, or sacrificed to relieve and reenact the pressures involved in a social order’s sense of the beautiful and the good. He is scandal and abomination, and scandal and abomination are always spiritual. He is also “pure” in so far as the secret dictum of any society (and he would not be attractive as a figure if this were not so) is: “A little dose of vice, makes goodness nice.” We drink or drug or smoke or fuck, but never let it interfere with our overall sense of decorum and function. He does. He is too pure for a simple dose of naughtiness. Therefore he purifies our vices by taking them beyond the category of compromise and contingency. He tests and exceeds the limits and exposes us to our own failure to be hot or cold. “I would that thou wert hot or cold, but being luke warm, I shall spit you forth from my mouth” (John, somewhere in the beginning address to the seven churches in the book of revelations).

I was searching synonyms on Thesaurus.com earlier when I ran a search for the word lady. This was the result.

Though, I do think I'll start using the word rib to refer to females.

photofunia.com is a great place to make weird photos of your friends.