"

strip away the sugary coat
form your mental synapses.
the medulla oblongata does not
require sweet’ners,
the brains is NOT a cereal,
it’s CEREBRAL / say it with me!

they only put the syrups
on your psychosis, sugar,
because your insanities
all make perfect sense.

you know, the fareal rabble-rousers
think quick and walk slow / cognitive
dissonance has become the new al qaeda.

when disbelief is in the blood, THEN
you’ll become “a revolutionary©”

but when you think before you speak?
…ohshit, sweetjesus!
it’s then you become “a threat”…

and tho it hasn’t really happened yet,
they will one day come and trial us
for writing …about thinking.


(bonus poem)
THE NSA KNOWS WHAIR YOUR 3RD GRADE ESSAY IS. … do you?

pen & paper is the new proletariat.
the written word is a totem
of your totality…
the homespun morality grants
your mottos some sort of duality…

but when
one
equals
two…

…they watch you.

"

cerebral inunction (plus bonus poem), upfromsumdirt © 2006 (via upfromsumdirt)

rrrick:

astrodidact:

Three years ago, researchers fired whisky to the International Space Station as part of an experiment to see how the conditions in space change flavours. Next month, the whisky will return to Earth.
 http://www.sciencealert.com.au/news/20143108-26097-2.html 

Scotland’s contribution to space research. Good job.

rrrick:

astrodidact:

Three years ago, researchers fired whisky to the International Space Station as part of an experiment to see how the conditions in space change flavours. Next month, the whisky will return to Earth.

Scotland’s contribution to space research. Good job.

(via fyodor-brostoevski)

My summer in verbs.

Alec Baldwin and Sean Connery in The Hunt for Red October (dir. John McTiernan, 1990)

Sam Neill and Sean Connery in The Hunt for Red October (dir. John McTiernan, 1990)

Scullin’

Scullin’

Ev’rywhere I hear the sound of marching, charging feet, boy
Cause summer’s here and the time is right for fighting in the street, boy
But what can a poor boy do
Except to sing for a rock ‘n’ roll band
Cause in sleepy London town
There’s just no place for a street fighting man

Hey! Think the time is right for a palace revolution
But where I live the game to play is compromise solution
Well, then what can a poor boy do
Except to sing for a rock ‘n’ roll band
‘Cause in sleepy London town
There’s no place for a street fighting man

Hey! Said my name is called disturbance
I’ll shout and scream, I’ll kill the king, I’ll rail at all his servants
Well, what can a poor boy do
Except to sing for a rock ‘n’ roll band
Cause in sleepy London town
There’s no place for a street fighting man

"Some days in late August at home are like this, the air thin and eager like this, with something in it sad and nostalgic and familiar…"

—  William Faulkner, The Sound and the Fury (via a-femmefatalist)

(via a-femmefatalist)

I don’t think I knew that the murderers of Emmett Till confessed in the pages of Look magazine a few months after they were acquitted and were able to do so safely because double jeopardy laws prevented them from being tried again. What’s most astonishing, though, are the letters to the editor following the confession. The most vile letters could be idiots talking about Ferguson today. “Roy Bryant and J. W. Milam did what had to be done, and their courage in taking the course they did is to be commended. To have followed any other course would have been unrealistic, cowardly and not in the best interest of their family or country.” This could be Bill O’Reilly or Sean Hannity talking about officer Darren Wilson.

Check out the confession here

and the letters to the editor here

You got any Kahlua, or…?

You got any Kahlua, or…?

Anton Chekhov and Olga Korbut.

Anton Chekhov and Olga Korbut.

John Belushi in The Blues Brothers (dir. John Landis, 1980)

My obsession with this movie is dangerous. I can act out the entire thing, beginning to end, verbatim, including the songs, by myself. I could probably earn a healthy living doing this as an off-Broadway one-man-show.

One night back in high school we were dying to try Night Train wine because of its prominence in this movie. We called every party store within forty miles and finally found one that had Night Train. (Fun fact: convenience stores that sell liquor are called “party stores” in Michigan. Party stores don’t sell balloons and decorations. Just booze and chips. You know…party supplies.)

We secured ourselves a buyer of age and I borrowed the family car without asking and we drove to Mt. Pleasant’s Underground Party Store and bought the five remaining bottles of Night Train they had in stock. The bottles were quite dusty. Our buyer demanded to crack one in the car on the way home and described its taste as something akin to cough syrup.

I’ve only ever ridden the Night Train that one time but I can confirm Jake Blues is correct. That Night Train’s a mean wine.

Cab Calloway sings Minnie The Moocher in The Blues Brothers (dir. John Landis, 1980)