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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Jun 18, 2017 - 10:05pm PT
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To quote Mr. Gabby Hayes: "Yep."
You are right, ff.
Our mission here is manifold, including --
Standard refining of artistic content.
A high tariff on fake lies and high-falutiness.
An allowance for passing Go.
Get Out of My Face Free Cards for all.
Among other things.
So here's a great shot from a local shutterbug who was in the Valley the other day, or so he claims.
He said it was wetter than you can believe.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Jun 19, 2017 - 12:53am PT
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Commentary
"It Can't Happen Here"
A 1935 visionary novel by Sinclair Lewis
Jules Stewart put this up on Sunday 9 October 2016 in The Guardian.
If the US presidential campaign conveys a flavour of unreality, that may be because it is rooted in fiction. In 1935, Sinclair Lewis sat down to write a novel about political radicalisation and social upheaval in the depression-ravaged US. What emerged after four months of feverish work was It Can’t Happen Here, a runaway bestseller that quickly sold more than 300,000 copies.
Lewis was alarmed by what was taking shape in the country. The New Deal had delivered a false sense of optimism to the Federal Reserve, if not to the millions queueing at the soup kitchens. The money supply was tightened in anticipation of a sustained rally, government spending was cut and taxes were raised. As a result, the US was pushed to the cusp of a double-dip depression, with manufacturing back to its 1934 level and unemployment up by 5%.
This created fertile ground for Father Charles Coughlin, Huey Long, William Randolph Hearst and other fanatics to spread the gospel of bigotry. It was no fleeting backlash: on the eve of the second world war, the German American Bund packed more than 20,000 militants into Madison Square Garden in New York for a pro-Hitler rally. To wild applause, their leader, Fritz Kuhn, derided the US President as Franklin D “Rosenfeld”.
Lewis’s antihero is the ignorant demagogue Berzelius “Buzz” Windrip, who wins the 1936 election with the support of millions of impoverished and angry voters. They marched carrying placards that read: “We are on relief. We want to become human beings again. We want Buzz!”
Windrip could count on a number of real-life champions who appear in the novel, such as the newspaper tycoon William Randolph Hearst. In 1935, the man widely regarded as responsible for goading the US into the Spanish-American war proclaimed: “Whenever you hear a prominent American called a fascist, you can usually make up your mind that the man is simply a loyal citizen who stands up for Americanism.”
Lewis’s hero, the New England journalist Doremus Jessup, attends a Windrip rally in Madison Square Garden. Jessup reports that Windrip’s rhetoric was irresistible to his thousands of downtrodden admirers. He later can’t remember a word Windrip said.
But it doesn’t matter: if Windrip contradicts himself, backtracks on policy or simply spews out a torrent of lies, he tells them what they want to hear.
Every American will be guaranteed a minimum income of $5,000 ($88,000 in today’s money), US-hating Mexico will be severely dealt with and Jewish bankers will be punished for landing the country in this mess.
Windrip unveils his 15-point manifesto, which includes “prison or the death penalty” for anyone advocating communism and the recognition of Jews as “fully Americanised”, so long as they continue to support “our ideals”. Substitute “Muslim” for “communist” and “Hispanic” for “Jew” and there emerges an uncomfortable picture of what is taking place in the US today.
Windrip wins the election. He orders the invasion of Mexico, after which his victorious militia returns singing When Johnny Comes Marching Home. Political opponents are herded into concentration camps, while a flood of refugees flee across the border to Canada.
In the end, though, it is only a work of fiction – and millions of Americans cling to the belief that it will remain so. Fingers crossed on 8 November.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Jun 19, 2017 - 06:05am PT
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Juneteenth. Heard of it?
http://www.juneteenth.com/history.htm
Juneteenth is Ralph Ellison's second novel, published posthumously in 1999 as a 368-page condensation of over 2000 pages written by him over a period of forty years.
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hooblie
climber
from out where the anecdotes roam
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Jun 19, 2017 - 07:14am PT
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thankyou to my base for their continuing support. yes, i learned of juneteenth during a texas construction gig
back in the eighties when a few of the brothers broke out bbq for all at lunch break. gastro- memory saves!
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Jun 19, 2017 - 01:40pm PT
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Misplaced Memories
I’ve misplaced some memories
who used to be my close associates.
They may have gone to the dark side of my moon-like brain
and there with Pink Freud they are making forgotten history.
The window is filled with stars whose names I once knew as well
as I knew the dates of Independence Day and April Fools Day.
And, as well, I thought I knew that gal’s heart
but now cannot even recall her name.
We took out for the top of the Falls Trail
and made the trip in record time.
We spent the night entwined,
only to wake and find a dozen Boy Scouts and their leaders
staring at us like we were raccoons or something unnatural.
I remember their patrol flag with the beaver
and it’s probably for the best I cannot reveal the young lady’s name.
I hate being old but love how I got here
when memory serves.
--MFM
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Jun 19, 2017 - 02:27pm PT
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For all the wild fairies yearning to be wilder yet.
and
For all the mild fairies learning to be milder yet.
Morning at the Lake / Corot
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Jun 19, 2017 - 03:03pm PT
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HOT POETS
June 2017 Edition
Landscape with the Fall of Icarus
by Wm. Carlos Wms.
According to Brueghel
when Icarus fell
it was spring
a farmer was ploughing
his field
the whole pageantry
of the year was
awake tingling
near
the edge of the sea
concerned
with itself
sweating in the sun
that melted
the wings’ wax
unsignificantly
off the coast
there was
a splash quite unnoticed
this was
Icarus drowning
106 degrees at three p.m.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Jun 19, 2017 - 03:09pm PT
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Jun 19, 2017 - 03:11pm PT
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hooblie
climber
from out where the anecdotes roam
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Jun 19, 2017 - 03:32pm PT
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hope this helps
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Jun 19, 2017 - 04:42pm PT
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Thanks, Mr. Bubblah.
Inundation helps...I'm a 3-shower-a-day man lately.
[Click to View YouTube Video]
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feralfae
Boulder climber
in the midst of a metaphysical mystery
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Jun 19, 2017 - 06:16pm PT
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Hi Mouse, Sir,
Is there a nice pool
That's lovely cool
Where you can retreat
To beat the heat?
It was 100F in in town today here. Not our usual June weather. I'm staying on the shady side of the house when I go outside.
Sending chilly wishes,
ff
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feralfae
Boulder climber
in the midst of a metaphysical mystery
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Jun 19, 2017 - 06:16pm PT
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Bushman, great wordsmithing on Icarus.
ff
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Jun 19, 2017 - 06:57pm PT
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That wasn't Bushman,feralfae, that was Daedalus Carlos Daedalus.
In answer to your question:
Nope, no pool, no wets, just a bunch of sweaty vets.
Decker, the fool, took off for the Valley on the YARTS today
When he gets back tonight I wonder what he'll say.
"Fern Spring was cold as ice, and it tasted really nice.
It's free, there is no price, and I'm glad there were no swimming mice."
I used to find occasional relief in the open door of the Asian market's reefer before it burned up/down.
I could go over to Bear Creek to soak in a shady spot,
before I could get back home I'd be real hot
and still have to hit the shower, like as not.
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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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Jun 19, 2017 - 10:26pm PT
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I was Never Icarus
I was never Icarus
And neither was I Daedalus
I was never Icarus
Though I once claimed I was Spartacus
I was never Icarus
Kevorkian or Copernicus
Primarily it's just because
I was never Icarus
-bushman
Werdz confound me...
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Reilly
Mountain climber
The Other Monrovia- CA
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Jun 20, 2017 - 12:40am PT
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Jun 20, 2017 - 12:52am PT
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Sounds like it might be the contraption that DMT and Sasha found but don't know what it does.
Happy travels, Reilly!
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