“These alleged actions do not reflect the values and standards of our program…”

No – at Penn State, we’re more about raping kids in showers than shooting guns into condos.

This evening, for Bloomsday…

UD shared a Guinness with Mr UD at the dinner table (pad thai with shrimp from Noodles and Co., since you ask). Holding her little glass aloft, she said A toast to the greatest English-language writer the modern world has ever seen. James Augustine Aloysius Joyce, I love you, and I will never stop reading you.

Mr UD went on a bit, during the meal (pad thai without the shrimp), about Habermas, and the rather different form of communication about which he’s obsessed. Joycean internal monologues are all well and good; the stories we endlessly tell ourselves about ourselves as we walk around all day are all well and good; but the understanding of rationality to include communicative rationality, and, on that foundation, the elaboration of a discourse ethics, is just as crucial…

All day, UD‘s been playing and singing songs that appear in Joyce’s work (she just performed Sweet Rosie O’Grady).

UD has read from Joyce at the Irish Embassy, at the Cosmos Club, and at lots of other venues around DC. But some years seem to call for something more quiet. One year she took two of her GW students to an Irish bar. Sipping Guinness, we took turns reading favorite passages from Ulysses.

James Joyce is Mr UD‘s ninth cousin, twice removed.

Penn State Prez to State Pen

Well, it’s actually a county lockup, but UD finds the tongue-twister irresistible.

Yes, the dusty Sandusky story needs to be dusted off for a moment while we note the failure of Graham Spanier’s endless efforts to avoid incarceration for his role in the child abuse scandal at his university, where coaches buggering little boys in the locker rooms was all in a day’s work.

The whole sordid tale, you recall (it’s okay if you don’t have the stomach to recall) was a testimony to the institution-enhancing greatness of big-time university football.

No Title
“Trump plans to hold unprecedented military ‘farewell event’ on Inauguration Day with a 21-gun salute, color guard and martial music when he boards Air Force One for final flight to Mar-a-Lago”

Dress rehearsal.

**************

[source]

My Toast to Biden, via My Sister’s YouTube Channel.
Nice Save.

Our beloved democracy, that is. Good going. NBC calls it.

Goodbye, cruel world.

… And as for all those horrid political contingencies ahead of us…

Let’s face the music and dance.

‘BIDEN TAKES THE LEAD IN GEORGIA’

Georgia, Georgia, the whole night through
Just an old sweet hope kept Georgia on my mind

Georgia, Georgia, love you so
We’re movin’ up to 2-7-0

***************************

Certain voters frighten me
Certain eyes look violently
And in dreadful dreams I see
The road lead back to Trump

Georgia, Georgia, some peace I find
Just a late-night count keeps Georgia on my mind

Pull Away, Joe!

Sing it.

Hey, pull away, the ship of state is holding.

Hey, pull away, you’ve pulled away, Joe!
Hey, pull away, the vote is now unfolding,
Hey, pull away, you’ve pulled away, Joe!

King Donald was a bully boy
Before the revolution
(Hey, pull away; you’ve pulled away, Joe!)
He tried to crown himself today
And kill the Constitution


Hey, pull away, you’ve pulled away, Joe

Hey, pull away, we’re bound for better weather
Hey, pull away, you’ve pulled away, Joe

Mail-in Ballots:
Newspaper Poem

A poem taken from a newspaper or magazine article, using words and sentences from the article.

**********************

THE MOON IS RUSTING AND WE DON'T KNOW WHY
The moon is rusting and we don't know why.

Hematite shows, where latitudes are high.

But how can that be, since the moon is dry?

There are a couple theories as to why.



Solar wind calms in our magnetic sky.
Meteors make the surface liquefy.
From “New Year Poem,” by Philip Larkin

For sometimes it is shown to me in dreams
The Eden that all wish to recreate
Out of their living, from their favourite times;
The miraculous play where all the dead take part,
Once more articulate; or the distant ones
They will never forget because of an autumn talk
By a railway, an occasional glimpse in a public park,
Any memory for the most part depending on chance.

How much more of a freak show can America’s game become?

Put aside the question whether the academic joke, financial catastrophe (UD thanks John for the link), and criminal bacchanalia university football represents makes it a terrific fit with American higher education. Put aside the fact that multiple high schools are unable to field a team because so few guys (thanks for the link, Charlie) are stupid enough to take part. Put aside the ritual militarization of high school games, with fights and gunshots becoming a structural part of the fun. (As Ravi, one of my readers, puts it, we’re heading toward “open carry on the gridiron.”)

Look merely at one professional team, the Raiders, which recently boasted the Three Violent and Insane Stooges (all were rapidly suspended or dumped or whatever).

UD doesn’t get it. If you really want to watch an insane obese male lumber about destroying everything in his path, you’ve already got the President.

It’s summer. So mass murder moves…

… to the beach.

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