In the name of comprehensive journalism the scribe would like to report that the Fox administration has backed-off its legal pursuit of Mexico City Mayor Lopez Obrador (“Mexico Rising” April 28).
The attorney general announced his resignation and down in Mexico that’s a way of saying all his projects are on hold. Fox said something about “continuing to respect the rule of law and respect for public institutions blah, blah, blah,” and boy it must have been easier running a soda pop company.
It will be interesting to watch the ways in which the left-wing candidacy is attacked, from within and without, as the election nears.
Other than that, the scribe would like to slap a poem down from his “Spit in a Flower Pot (if you must)” and call it a night.
We’ve got the same old themes rolling around, Social Security (revamp) and the filibuster – the issue that won’t die.
And the scribe says either Bill Frist doesn’t have the votes to do away with ancient institutional rules, or the ancient institutional rules are anticipating him, getting in the way.
He got booed at Princeton the other day. This passes as making a name for yourself among (r)epublicans because the mullahs in their party think the university is a den of secular marxism. And we certainly hope they're right because that's what it will take to slay this bunch; a resurgence of secular materialism and a lot of martinis.
When the Supreme Court ordered school desegregation in Brown v. Board of Education, it directed implementation at “all deliberate speed.”
the scribe read in a biography about former Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall by Juan or John Williams that somebody from the NAACP did a brief grammatical analysis of the phrase (all deliberate speed) and concluded, “It means slow.”
And the Senate sure is a “deliberative" institution, oblivious to the fact the media NEEDS A RESOLUTION!
So old-timey, the ‘ol filibuster. You can put a shot clock on basketall and a designated hitter in the American League, but you’ll never get this bunch to speed up.
You gotta love those founding fathers. Their ideas almost directly address today’s majority’s excesses.
They must have foreseen Bush!
God Bless America and here is a poem about interracial love:
Three Black Girls by White Boy
1. Angel
Saw through the dark
a misplacing of halo
not floating even
your head over.
But when found did,
on spangled ankle
inspire.
You got your getaway, Gurl.
No words that this boy
might try her.
Liplocked,
he popped the luv jail open
and you slipped you
away through black
doors of yours
chosen.
2. Suzette
Warm world shared with
You a maiden.
Together excelled
and we played in.
Then some with our
blood. Meaning them
that once sprung us,
talked up of colors and in
doing so, stung us.
No more afternoons
in our just crushed
cocoon. Your father,
Afro-pride now
mended,
threw a thanks giving-less
dinner.
No one attended.
3. Ms. Miles.
Wrapped cocoa head in
braided rope swinging,
though please never round
your neck lynched. Being
me is to tease. Breezes
rippled and kissed those
raggings round which your
legs wrapped.
Burnt body be knighted.
You love-lied all,
you delighted. Graced.
So simple
done did it,
all black, all night
and with no money
in it.
The attorney general announced his resignation and down in Mexico that’s a way of saying all his projects are on hold. Fox said something about “continuing to respect the rule of law and respect for public institutions blah, blah, blah,” and boy it must have been easier running a soda pop company.
It will be interesting to watch the ways in which the left-wing candidacy is attacked, from within and without, as the election nears.
Other than that, the scribe would like to slap a poem down from his “Spit in a Flower Pot (if you must)” and call it a night.
We’ve got the same old themes rolling around, Social Security (revamp) and the filibuster – the issue that won’t die.
And the scribe says either Bill Frist doesn’t have the votes to do away with ancient institutional rules, or the ancient institutional rules are anticipating him, getting in the way.
He got booed at Princeton the other day. This passes as making a name for yourself among (r)epublicans because the mullahs in their party think the university is a den of secular marxism. And we certainly hope they're right because that's what it will take to slay this bunch; a resurgence of secular materialism and a lot of martinis.
When the Supreme Court ordered school desegregation in Brown v. Board of Education, it directed implementation at “all deliberate speed.”
the scribe read in a biography about former Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall by Juan or John Williams that somebody from the NAACP did a brief grammatical analysis of the phrase (all deliberate speed) and concluded, “It means slow.”
And the Senate sure is a “deliberative" institution, oblivious to the fact the media NEEDS A RESOLUTION!
So old-timey, the ‘ol filibuster. You can put a shot clock on basketall and a designated hitter in the American League, but you’ll never get this bunch to speed up.
You gotta love those founding fathers. Their ideas almost directly address today’s majority’s excesses.
They must have foreseen Bush!
God Bless America and here is a poem about interracial love:
Three Black Girls by White Boy
1. Angel
Saw through the dark
a misplacing of halo
not floating even
your head over.
But when found did,
on spangled ankle
inspire.
You got your getaway, Gurl.
No words that this boy
might try her.
Liplocked,
he popped the luv jail open
and you slipped you
away through black
doors of yours
chosen.
2. Suzette
Warm world shared with
You a maiden.
Together excelled
and we played in.
Then some with our
blood. Meaning them
that once sprung us,
talked up of colors and in
doing so, stung us.
No more afternoons
in our just crushed
cocoon. Your father,
Afro-pride now
mended,
threw a thanks giving-less
dinner.
No one attended.
3. Ms. Miles.
Wrapped cocoa head in
braided rope swinging,
though please never round
your neck lynched. Being
me is to tease. Breezes
rippled and kissed those
raggings round which your
legs wrapped.
Burnt body be knighted.
You love-lied all,
you delighted. Graced.
So simple
done did it,
all black, all night
and with no money
in it.
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