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The Left Column

Politics for Poets

politics of the here and now

immoral hive of worst case ideologically enslaved solans of the gret corruption

They've got their heads inside the echo chamber. There seems to be no hope that they will snap out of it. Don't get victimized by them, don't approach them with a counter-narrative while they are in the throes of the trance. They chant who they hate. They all agree, in unison, as if that makes lies true. And they pander to all worst case conjecture as long as it conforms to the on-message narrative that they dare not reject because they craft a world with this, weave the thin threads of lies into a giant tapestry of false narrative and accusatory talking points. They know how to bully.

Aren't you glad that they are just a fiction and their their minds can be touched, at any time, and become aware of the cesspool into which they have dove, having dived, having been dived upon by mosquitoes of delusive narrative while in an inducedd state of ejubbulation, brought about, no doubt, by the imfamous, if only mythological, pill-pot, used within the derisively named pill-pot scrum, at the place of (political) emmergence whihc, in some languaged, tranlates into bawdy talking, a joke which the linguist may not have understood was being played upon them by the more clever than them , 'natives'.

More Conjecture

Yes, Snowflake Anthropology, it's a useful topic for bawdy, ribald fictions. Drink up, you never know what delusions are on tap at the Amillia Pub.

 
dunt 

dun


dunttt

Constitutional Crisis?

What crisis do they think it is? That the Constitution might start to be enforced for a change?


blah blah blah blah

May 27, 2017


 
 
 
   



Sean!

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Love
People!

    
    
🖐morning
clover🖐





these can get you banned from school?!:
🔫 🚀 🚙🚤🚣c🍀⚜⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣🚣
🚣🚣🚣  🚀  🚀🔨🔨🔨⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣
🔨 🚙 🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣
⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣



spinfont unicode-isms
🍀 Praise God! 🍀
🍀⏲⏱⏰⏲⏱🔫⏰⏰⏲⏱🔫⏰⏰🍀
🎠 
🎠 
🎠 
🔫
🔨🔨 
🍀 Praise God! 🍀



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if you don't have proper fonts installed you won't see what this picture shows: the output of the echo command with unicode symbols as input. If you are blind basically the unicode are symbols that you could feel as shapes. If you have a 'font box', which would be like that divice with all the pins in it that you can place your hand inside, and the shape of your hand will appear on the surface. If such a thing locked, it would then let a blind person feel it and they would feel the shape. such a device that does that for font shapes would greatly aid the blind. It would be a 'kind of' high resolution new-braille. Call it a 'sean-box' font reader.

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🚀 🚙🚤🚣c🍀⚜⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣🚣
🚣🚣🚣  🚀  🚀🔨🔨🔨⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣
🔨 🚙 🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣
⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣
🖐


🖐🖑 🖑🖐   © 2010, 2012 Amillia Publishing Company.Stylized Lincoln from a high-res photo of his memorial.  © 2013 Amillia Publishing Company.

Here is today's pretty poem:


  

mute no more      

    
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  © 2010, 2012 Amillia Publishing Company.  © 2010, 2012 Amillia Publishing Company.
  © 2010, 2012 Amillia Publishing Company.
  © 2010, 2012 Amillia Publishing Company.

🖐 🌙 🖑
🖑🌛 🌜🖐
   
 🖐🖑
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🖐🖑 🖑🖐
 ♥♥?
Blathertational


 🖐🖑
🖑🖐


glossary of what's next

♥♥? :

Be nice to yourself and others. What other choice?

Praise the Lord Just because it's the right thing to do !© 2012 APC.Praise the Lord for his deep and unfailing love for us! © 2012 APC.


What we have done
What we have failed to do.

Wake up!

You never know what delusions are on tap at the Amillia Pub.

Her pretty delusions glowing in the late day sun along the ridge line of her ruination the whaaabbb of over throttled molly coddled best damn dude in the city very rude calls himself a real-true whateva and spews of vitrol and delusion as a constant fowl narrative dare to disagree and he weighs too much, his doctor says and says to take the little pills he doesn't take the little pills and that is why she loves him sooo so very very much girl with a plan for an ambitious and well-landed man with a tracker and a plow who can make her life go 'wow' late day after the job she took her time inside her heart ache. He doesn't even see her. Dressed in her tight Italian dabbling in coregraphy and dance in sillohette which is a shot that is very hard to make if you do it at the very place because it's only some of the time if the sun's just right and the light is pretty on all of the sides of things that beautiful magic time it can always be her fat like he is if he could only see her as she struts along the briddle ways, way up high. Some grand-dame in a riding crop like from a Conneticuit movie from the '30s (the 1930's) beating the side of the beast with the lash and showing no mercy in her constant conquest and the fat farmer is in her thrall, our small tatters girl, hard working and intellegent though she is doesn't have a chance against such monied wealth and guile. So the plot thickens and our high school girl desires the fat rich framer who owns all the hills. how can she achieve her goal of being the lady of his house. The farmer tells his story My grandpa made a fortune in retail I'll spare you the details and when he worked on things they'd never fail master of all that entails. He found a strech of hill he liked it was a ten hour drive from the city. He like how hidden it was and how the sky at the dusk was so pretty. He liked how the lake was so clean way over there at the bottom of the sky and that you could see it from here, so far away, with a view like an egale that fly towards that part of the far away sky thinking it all as poetry standing there on that ridgeline so sure of the past being gone so sure of the future not coming out wrong so sure of walking away to a new place, a better day, away from the hate of the bustling hustle and the brutish assertion of bullying muscle where the water is clean and the buffalo roam and if he wants it that way he lives all alone he'd live all alone. all alone there in his lonely home standing on the empty deck at sunset the sound of the Hermit Trush doesn't consoul him anymore he see's such lust for sense to be a kind of pagonotic (paganontic was his own, made up, word) salivation He's wired like that in who he censored himself. But there a day, there a year, it gets old. In the Winter, in Vermont, it gets really really cold and there are critters aware of the heat that you make a vermon infested root cellar. Smells from behind a hidden door. And then, one day, when it was colder than the day before, and it would be even colder tomorrow (it's Autumn) he was walking one of his many fallow places. Stumps pulled out and thrown together in a giant pile. the stone walls, all along the edges of the parts, where the boundries used to be before someone so fabulously wealthy could buy it all up singing laaaa daa de da de da de daaa rumpatuck rumpatuck rumpatuck rue (to the tune of a Gershwin snippit from the very famous "I got Rythum"

the secret door in the hillside

he finds a secret door It's a wierd old style door. He tries to do some archiology about it he stirs up the interst of some local know-it-alls one of the local know-it-alls ends up dead in a mysterious way. authors note: when Shakespeare dispatches with a character it's sudden like real death can be at times end of authors brain droppings about his delusions about Shakespeare the hills and rills and intervales you lumber through with workers pails hanging from a mast across your giant sholders they pay the cost for all your labours living within this highland dream his daughter (years later, the first wife had concoured the rich mans heart and they had a daughter) the duaghter married the laborer (who could haul the largest weights). They had a son who eventally grew up to be the fat farmer (with the cherry colored scruffy beard). Oh fat farmer fat farmer I know you aren't a harmer you really aren't even a charmer except for the charm of the cash your open and obvious stash and the secret way up on the mountain of a hidden doorway. doorway can translate to portal the author is so very mortal listen to the Hermit Thrush to-were-ttle
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wake up Praise and love ♥♥ the Lord!! ♥♥ © 2012 APC.

♥♥ Praise ♥♥ the ♥♥ Lord ♥♥ !!

end of column

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The Message Column


An old proverb:

Those who say do not know. Those who know do not say.



Well, what did you think I'd say?

Just a little bit,
a little bit at a time, Lord.




 
 
 
This website was made in the United States of America.  © 2012 APC. Rainbow Star. A star shape with banded rainbows. The star is not a perfect star, but has side of uneven length as if it is but one in series, of an animated dancing star..  © 2012 APC. Artwork by Bill Perilli (the webmaster) © 2012 APC. Artwork by Bill Perilli (the same) © 2012 APC. made in the USA stylized logo © 2012 APC. made in the USA stylized logo © 2012 APC. ditto.  © 2012 APC. ditto © 2012 APC. ditto © 2012 APC. ditto.  © 2012 APC. Rainbow Star. A star shape with banded rainbows. The star is not a perfect star, but has side of uneven length as if it is but one in series, of an animated dancing star..  © 2012 APC. This website was made in the United States of America.  © 2012 APC. Artwork by Bill Perilli (the same) © 2012 APC. Artwork by Bill Perilli (the webmaster) © 2012 APC.


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Plaque in memorial for passangers of a slave ship who died local to this sign and are burried nearby. Key West, Florida.  © 2015 2016 © APC
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Oh tiny font nonsense,
just because your letters are smaller
doesn't mean you have some alternative importance.

  Praise     Praise     Praise
   the        the        the
   Lord       Lord       Lord!
  for    because    
 Easter  He's so awesome! 
  welcome to The Message Column!

      🖐Love🖑
      🖑Cops🖐

      

Is it obvious parody or News or both?

 
Stylized Lincoln from a high-res photo of his memorial. © 2013 Amillia Publishing Company. Stylized Lincoln from a high-res photo of his memorial. © 2013 Amillia Publishing Company. Stylized Lincoln from a high-res photo of his memorial. © 2013 Amillia Publishing Company.
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🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌙 🌚 🌛 🌜 🌝. 🚤 🚥

🖐Love🖑
🖑Cops🖐

      

     
Vote Once
One Vote
here is a fresh link, a new path to some older content:
   
   
 


 
 Just a little bit,
a little bit at a time, Lord.
 
   


In Wicked Need of an Edit

🚛 🎓 🎔 🌀

Political and Media Inanity

Kafka was a dillhole, Orwell was a submissive? depends on who you ask. . .

by Truck-u-later

Truck-u-later

in this column Truck-u-later steps in deeper . . .

So what did just happen?

There has been a very lot of very important very very this week and I could let you know what I've heard myself but, it isn't anything. I'd just be repeating what you can find on your own. I have no insight or new knowledge, but a lot of questions.

If I started putting out my conjecture about what has just 'gone done' and why, I'd me just fanning the flames of conflation of simultanious events as being related, or reveeling, by just making a good guess, someones close to the mark explanation about how and why and who and who's doing it and when will it end, etc.

I ran into someone who I didn't know who wanted to show me a photo of him in Vegas with a famous Rock Star (who I love) and it was cool. and I was like 'way cool. But then I asked him 'how it was' in Las Vegas since the beginining of last month. Were people still upset? He said not that he saw. So what can I conclude from that ? Business as usual? I'm asking questions and no one can answer them so why?

One of the euphemisms that is being used to describe the mass-arrests in Suadi is that there is a 'corruption probe' going on. Another was that it is a 'counter coup'.

Two 'princes' died in unexpected suddenness, one in an heliocoptor crash, the other in a fire fight with his body guards defending him. So the government by consensus is over? Or did the situation warrent this for reasons that won't be put forward for 75 years because the nature of it is too sensative?

And our State Department is on board with the on-going 'corruption probe' in Saudi. There are many other dots in this constilation that we could connect. I't all over the news who is connected to who, who was puppetting who. And as we know the things that come from one place that are lauded are often copied elsewherre. We know that Saudi didn't invent the purge, but they sure have given us all food for speculation.

But what do I know? Nothing. If there are executions I'd prefer there also be trials. In the world of kings and international regime mongering, and funding of foreign operations, know this: they don't just go and target anyone for no reason. There is always a reason that these things happen. And it's never just arbitrary and it's not without a lot of forethought. So we can make up something. And most of us will. It will trouble us. We'll glom around The Net looking for frozen insight, something dated from before, when we didn't know, someone who might have been eyes open and wide and sucking in the stream of what is actually ahppening.

The narrative of 'corruption probe' is . . . lacking. People will write a Hamlet. to fill in the blanks. They'll cast politicians as failed Lady McBeth's. She'll be bubbling in toil and troubling (very troubling)

Ya, so explanations are scant. And now Twitter has upped the number of characters that they allow. Wow. So if it's dumb before, with twice as many characters is it twice as dumb?

Ya, if I don't know why am I going on with this?


Nov. 9, 2017

tell us how you really feel . . .

. . . well . . . Truck-you-later!




delight in the delete.




Remember the Sultana!

April 27, 1865

The Sultana. from image free to use. The original image is in the public domain. This has been modified and so it is not public domain. you are free to make one like this by finding the original image and doing your own transforms on it. So . . . it's all good., 2014 © APC ditto, 2014 © APC The Sultana. transformed image ditto 2014 © APC ditto 2014 © APC © 2016 © 2017 ©




  Praise     Praise     Praise
   the        the        the
   Lord       Lord       Lord
  for his    for his    for his
 unfailing  unfailing  unfailing
   love!      love!      love!



  well, little else now.

Bill writes all these columns.

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The Right Column

Cleaning up yard waste

Yard work is a necessary part of having a dwelling in New England. You must clean up the debriss that gathers, or else you yard will turn into a forest. You have to clear away the growth of trees that you don't want, or else you're yard will become a thicket. And if a tree gets too big, it's very expensive later to have it removed.


8:39 AM
Nov 6, 2017




Somethings never change
nothing need stay the same


Angle Spin Gauge 51 show off page



recommendation:Blender




inline svg sample 1,inline svg sample 2,inline svg sample 3


My moonie moon moon . . . 

🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 
🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 
🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 
🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 

A butterbean, because the baby likes them. Buy a, poppa, poppa, The people said.

A butterbean,
a butterbean
because their good
because their good
and the baby likes them.
You're the best dad
anybody every had.

My daddy's
really strong
and he's never wrong.
dude!
Buy a . . .
Father,
dad,
something different for me.
Poppa
pagga
Poppa
pagga
Poppa
pagga

A bob'n'bob dad!
You're the best dad
any body ever had
It's always a special day
when you're coming my way
when I think of you
I can't be sad.
But it's making me sad.
My dad had.
Like my dad had.
and it's making me sad.

Poppa 
pagga
can you pay?
Won't you come around
on Christmas day?
Poppa
pagga
A bob'en-in' dad
You're the best dad
anybody every had.

Baloppa daught dad . . .

Derrick dreaming lyrics
at the dance rave.

My moon said to your moon
"reason escapes me
let's not take too long
to resolve these serious issues"

Your moon said to my moon
"Reason dictates
that  I suggest you
have a nice show. 
Now I'm going to dance over here."

My moon
danced off
and forgot all about your moon.

no issues really ever needed
to be resolved.

After that Derrick never went
to another dance race

. . . only 50 days from this week . . .

East Woodstock, CT,  Dec 22, 2006, Copyright 2006, 2010

Mertle and a Red house Christmas! This house is in East Woodstock, Conneticuit. Photo taken Dec 2006


Don'cha know my mommy needs ya?
Don'cha know my grand da needs ya?
Doe own't leave my grandma needy.
Half way back from Sausa-lee-ta
Dough ount leave my dear mother alone.



🌛
    Wind
    Rain
    Mist
    Snow
    

 


Please visit my DEMOS

       
   
   Live your life
in constant resurrection!


⏲⏱⏰⏲⏱⏰⏰⏲⏱⏰⏰
 ~ ; )
 

Praise the Lord!

MH, where are you? Milton Moonlight © Copyright © 2010,2012, 2013, 2014 © APC ©.

I got nothing more

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Poem Shards


Eulogy
I met him in the fog
  of war
 after he was already dead
 his visage in videos speaking
         dread
 and how the public is
     mislead.

  If only I could have known
       you before
      you gave up the ghost to
           haunt the crossing ferry
  off to places unknown, an
      undiscovered . . . 
     virtue.
  A new country! 
      A new type of people who
   respect the things that work that
       ferry churning 
        through the fogs and mists and 
               dank smelling out-gassings
     of these many foul rethorics spewed
         plausible
     no one knows
  who is sure?

   Which shore
     does your ferry 
  pull up to
       to let out the ghost, so
   the story goes, the one
 that gets told . . . better
    be one that people can
              hear when their kids are there
   outside the house
       at the top of the stair.

 She
     can't hear that story if he
     is but a ghost now she
     knew him he was
        her friend and
 told her how he had
       been
 destroyed, remorsed, 
  fallowed, wasted, lost 
 abandoned on the battlefield of soul
 blow up your fallacies, this war
       needs to be taken way down inside those
              dark-thought places where
      hate channels freely destroy
            the hate by sending it off to unthought
                rhyme
  unspoken
            words unkind
      unthought hate.

  We try not to think of it, what
      the plausible story can be he's
 off on that Platsburgh ferry a shroud
        of fog the mists
         and fowl outgassings must
  some how be endured one last time
        to say good bye, come back to me
       come back to me you friend now gone and lost
  never known all hopes
   of how to write this story . . . his story . . . if he had asked me . . . 
   I'd start the book:
      "He faked his death to escape . . ." 




from Unipoems
 She asked 
 " If you get across
  can you take this
       to the King of Nowhere
 and tell him,
   plead to him
  to think of her
  and the way that she needs him?
       but he won't come home
     so she goes out looking for him
 went down to The Flatiron Building
         asking anyone
    wrote a card
        mailed it home.

  I imagine her
       collapsed on a bench
        people shuffle through
     she feels the lonely loss
          why won't he come home?
     I imagine her.
 She wrote it like that
      on her card.

  But it was all for sympathy,
       just an expression of her drama
 and she felt lost because of it
       and didn't know how to proceed
         the tricks didn't work with him
      he'd gotten willful,
     run off with a different girl
   who doesn't go to church.

     Hear the steam whistle
  of an approaching ferry turning to make a smooth connect.
      Moving back
 from the railing and the ropes
       she notes the impatience of the people at the dock
     and how the other women really like to talk.
  the crowd rushes forward
  have your nickel ready
        she gets swept along
     now she is way out there
       in the ferry
 out past the jetty.

 Ferry to Red Bank 1906





🚦 🚧 🚨 🚩 🚪 🚫 🚬 🚭 🚮 🚯 🚰 🚱 🚲
🌛         



🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌙 🌚 🌛 🌜 🌝. 🚤 🚥

sometimes there is beauty within the fragments . . .
🌜🌜🌜🌝🌛🌛🌛 

Sprongg . . . onng . . . ongg ga

Her tired morning
seems more like poetry
than anything you can
find on a blog.


Bark Bark. Bark Bark. Tree
Bark Bark. Bark Bark. Dog

🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌙 🌚 🌛 🌜 🌝. 🚤 🚥

Woof and woe🌝 
🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌙 🌚 🌛 🌜 🌝. 🚤 🚥



who da thought?

thought is sequential the end of it is never flood on, river of wise neglect let the bough break let the wind blow removed the baby from that cradle long ago and took him somewhere safe. Thought is over rated when it's thought for being mean to be mean being mean what you mean when you are mean when you 'mean what you say'. Memory is overrated there is joy in the person even when they don't know who you are anymore they still love you they usually don't forget that they love you usually. It was cold that day he'd driven all the way there and plodded through the snow to face the sorrow of his loved-one who didn't remember him but thought him to be someone else as thwarted. Memory is overrated when it's hard hurt of past tragedy as if it happened yesterday from the long ago. Bill Perilli, writer of all of the things on this blog. 🌜🌜🌜🌝🌛🌛🌛

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Coders Edge

This page served to you from FC27 (pre release)

Fedora core 27 is coming out this week, and I jumped the gun and did the upgrade on two of my machines. I have to say it's been rather flawless. Cudos to Fedora for getting the dnf system-upgrade right this time.

I have a legacy system that's about a little more than 10 years old. I replaced it as my desktop box, but I decided to leave it as a server. It's got Nvidia, so that's been an ongoing issue over the years. But I got the blender bug, and I decided to upgrade to a dual head nvidia system so that I could render much faster (much much faster). My recommendation is that it is worth the money if you are graphically inclined, and that's a good reason to do it. One of the main purposes for doing this is to do VR, but the only VR I do is crafting in minetest. I do that as a hobby. I also like to make tuxkarts, for the game supertuxkart. It took some time to get more proficcient. I came up with some ways of doing it. It really comes down to, in blender, learning, learning, and learnig more. Blender is one of those realms where you couldn't possibly use it all or know it all about the product. It's too fast. And not only that, it's got boucoutte plug-ins (in python) so . . . it's a real big thing."

My oldest system, that will still boot, though I haven't done it in years, is a legacy Compaq 'notebook' computer, a big black brick of a thing, heavy and it was very cool (very very cool) when it was new. Years ago there was a 30 days of the dead and I loaded on 30 days of Grateful Dead songs and turned that machine into playbox. But, as it is in the real world, when would I ever have call to use the thing? If I set up a music server, why do I want to run a 20 year old machine with a ten year old operating system? But it's cool to have a working copy of FC10 (or whatever the version of fedora was in 2006 or so). I suppose I could try and yank the drive and load the latest just to see how it works. In lieu of getting a new music machine, I think that I should investigate what I already have. Even though some of the android from a few years back really are inadequate the way that they are, they do have a lot of good features that a non-hobbled operating system (I consider Android OS a hobbled version of Linux, Google built their house on usurping open source. I see no advantage to keeping and maintaining an Android system. If it is to be made into something useful it mostly needs to have a less commercial, and more real-time operating system. But I just haven't gotten to the part where I take the mistake purchase that I made of an android tablet, some years back, and have some old version of Android on it. I think I got a hobbled version of the OS. I wouldn't be so derisive of it if it were actually a reasonible operating system that let you upgrade to a new version, like you can with Fedora and linux.

I have an old phone that I could convert to a linux. I haven't tried to do it. I guess it's doible, as long as the thing is 'unlocked'. But . . . instead . . . I would rather work with a newer system.

Nov 5, 2017






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