NEW PORNOGRAPHERS - THE LAWS HAVE CHANGED

It was crime at the time
but the laws, we changed ‘em
Though the hero for hire’s
forever the same one

Introducing for the first time
Pharaoh on the microphone
sing all hail
what’ll be revealed today
when we peer into the great unknown
from the line to the throne?

Awakened to cheers after years on the fault line
we are shocked to be here
in the face of the meantime
Pharaoh, all your methods have taught me
is to separate my blood from bone

It will all fail
feeling what I feel today
when we peer into the great unknown
from the line to the throne

Form a line through here
Form a line to the throne

Alone in the chain
it remains to be seen how
How well you can play
when the pawn takes a queen now

It was crime at the time
but the laws have changed
Yeah

Got my copy of merkley???’s (that’s lowercase merkley followed by three question marks) new book 111??? today …

111??? is a large, heavy coffee table book, limited to 1111 copies, featuring 111 photos of 111 women posing nude in their 222 favorite shoes on 111 sofas flanked by 222 lamps in San Francisco; and it’s one of the most amazing collections I’ve seen in a long time …

One of the photos is of pal-of-pal Cyan, co-founder of Zivity.com, who is pal of pal Cianna, who are collectively two of the Sexiest Geeks Alive.

I’ve got copy #600 …

A taste (reprinted without permission, but it’s also the cover of the book, so I feel justified):

Celebrate the first national Poem In Your Pocket Day!

The idea is simple: select a poem you love during National Poetry Month then carry it with you to share with co-workers, family, and friends on April 17.

Unfortunately, I didn’t find out about it until well past half-way through the day … but still, in honour of:

A NOISELESS PATIENT SPIDER

A noiseless patient spider,
I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated,
Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,
It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.
And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres
        to connect them,
Till the bridge you will need be form’d, till the ductile anchor
        hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.

  — Walt Whitman (1819 - 1892), American poet and essayist.

BAD RELIGION - AMERICAN JESUS

I don’t need to be a global citizen
‘Cuz I’m blessed by nationality
I’m a member of a growing populace
We enforce our popularity
There are things that seem to pull us under and
There are things that drag us down
But there’s a power and a vital presence
It’s lurking all around

We’ve got the American Jesus
See him on the interstate
We’ve got the American Jesus
He helped build the President’s estate

I feel sorry for the Earth’s population
‘Cuz so few live in the U.S.A.
At least the foreigners can copy our morality
They can visit but they cannot stay
Only precious few can garner our prosperity
It makes us walk with renewed confidence
We got a place to go when we die
And the architect resides right here

We’ve got the American Jesus
Bolstering national faith
We’ve got the American Jesus
Overwhelming millions every day

He’s the farmer’s barren fields (In God)
The force the army wields (we trust)
Expressions on the faces of the starving millions (Because he’s one of us)
The power of the man (Break down)
He’s the fuel that drives the Klan (Cave in)
He’s the motive and the conscience of the murderer (He can redeem your sin)

He’s the preacher on T.V. (Strong heart)
The false sincerity (Clear mind)
The form letter that’s written by the big computers (And infinitely kind)
The nuclear bombs (You lose)
The kids with no moms (We win)
And I’m fearful that he’s inside me… (He is our champion)
Yeah!

We’ve got the American Jesus
See him on the interstate
We’ve got the American Jesus
Exercising his authority
We’ve got the American Jesus
Bolstering national faith
We’ve got the American Jesus
Overwhelming millions every day, yeah!

One nation, under God…

We Have Lost Even

We have lost even this twilight.
No one saw us this evening hand in hand
while the blue night dropped on the world.

Always, always you recede through the evenings
towards where the twilight goes erasing statues.

  — Pablo Neruda (1904 - 1973), Chilean writer and Communist politician.
     Translation by W.S. Merwin