Alternative Post

In a rare (meaning previously non-existent) moment of integrity, Chuck Todd (yeah, fucking chuck Todd) calls out Spicer’s lies as “provable falsehoods.” Sewer Rat Barbie doesn’t even know when she’s being served a gift. She’s “rethinking their relationship with the press.” I guess that just means they’ll have to lie harder.

It was smart of Spicer to lie and it was smart of Kelly to go on this shitty show and lie more. Everyone’s talking about Trump’s lie instead of the entire world being in a protest march.

Happy New Year. Same Old Lang Syne.

The late and still-great Dan Fogelberg always said it best while conjuring up some bittersweet memory for all of us.

Happy New Year to you all. And 2016: Just move along and drop dead.

New Years Eve – Wherein We Honor Our Dead

This is a tribute to the people we lost in 2016. I’ll start you off with a few musicians and you go ahead and add more.

On January 10, we lost David Bowie. He was 69 and died of cancer.

On January 17, we lost Glenn Frey (67) of the Eagles.

On January 28, we lost Paul Kanter (74) of Jefferson Airplane.

On March 11, we lost Keith Emerson (71) and on December 7 we lost Greg Lake (69) of Emerson, Lake, and Palmer

On April 6, we lost Merle Haggard (79). (I’ll skip my editorial on this song for respect for the dead.)

On April 21, we lost Prince (57).

On November 10, we lost Leonard Cohen (82).

On November 13, we lost Leon Russell (74).

On December 25, we lost George Michael (53).

On December 28, we lost Debbie Reynolds (84), a day after her daughter, General Leia died.

And these are just the musicians, and just the very well-known at that. Many others near and dear to us died as well. Honor them in the comments.

Merry Christmas!

Whether you celebrate Christmas or not……….Enjoy this!

They are all ‘King Of Kings’ Ozymandias in the end.

Ozymandias

By Percy Bysshe Shelley

I met a traveller from an antique land

Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.

And on the pedestal these words appear:

“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.

 

 Essay question: Why have I posted this?