Listening to: “The Crook of My Good Arm” – Pale Young Gentlemen
You ever get the feeling that civilization is like, umm… collapsing? Maybe it’s just that I’ve been reading the news more often lately than usual, but I think it’s more than that. I think things really, really suck right now. Why is it that the top stories in the New York Times right now are that some douche Senator got reamed out, and that some baseball teams are having a tough time with their umpires?
Cause if you look at a little lower on the page, looks like the US launched a coupla airstrikes in Syria and Pakistan! A little more important than Ted Stevens being caught with his hand in the pie, wouldn’t ya think?
The Times says in their afterthoughty article that US commandos shot militants who had been feeding Iraqi terrorist cells. But other news outlets are reporting the Syrian’s account of things: that the attack killed 8 civilians. Syrian foreign minister Walid Muallem calls it “criminal and terrorist aggression.” I’m not sure what the fuck happened, but I think it boils down to the fact that’s it’s really bad to launch an air attack in a country you were trying to have good relations with. And now we’ve got an international incident going and everyone hates America even more than they already did. Nice job, guys.
Oh yeah, and Pakistan. We blew up some shit in Pakistan to get a Taliban guy and killed at least 20 people. Awesome.
Meanwhile, some neo-Nazis were planning on killing Barack Obama and 100 other people, Sudanese rebels are killing Chinese oil workers, 3 guys opened fire at the University of Central Arkansas, the economy is blowing even worse, Radar Magazine is folding…again, a kid whose mom let him play with an Uzi at a gun expo shot himself in the head, and poor Jennifer Hudson’s family has another death to deal with.
Things are… not looking good. Again, maybe I just didn’t notice it before. But I dunno. Ah well, time to go do some non-world-helping freelance writing to make ends meet. Cheers.
And now, a happy poem:
The Second Coming
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in the sands of the desert.
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?