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FIRST AMEND MINTS

FRESH BREATH. FREE EXPRESSION.


Unfinished Anniversary Pome
by Bloomsday

A Buddhist respect will never displease you:

It laughs at choice moments,

breaks shackles and frees you.

A Buddhist respect will never forsake you:

Its memories linger,

and dreamily wake you.

A Buddhist respect will never implore you:

It patiently waits

for it's chance to adore you.

A Buddhist respect will never provoke you:

It peacefully plods

in the darkness to poke you.

A Buddhist respect will never prevent you:

your choice to remain

is why Buddha has sent you.

For Those Playing Along @ Home...

Above the stupid, corrupt fray, I turn to the frank, rich wisdom of Frank Rich.

On the MasonStink front...

The Plain Dealer finally turns its head toward Dame Justice.

Then there's this curious missive to the silent citizenry, who shan't let this "polito-cracy" (really? couldn't come up with anything more apropos than that?) continue after January 1.   Curious, since the Plain Dealer gave thick cover to the corruption of the justice system for years for the sake of perp walks and prosecutor press releases, AND just exactly who were we to blow our whistles to, anyway?  Also, (a Bloomsday first!) I recommend the comments to this editorial as better editorial than the editorial.

Until the PD Editorial Board (and it's brand new Editor in Chief) make a mea culpa for past practices, us silent citizens will still consider it part of the problem.

W.W.Q.D.?

First off, we know, Quincy wouldn't have had to shit-can his "human resource guy" twice, especially after finding out that the masonic douchebag was secretly shaking down employees in Quincy's office for political contributions that never saw the light of day.

Prague Remembers Everything

The Plot Thickens

"Homina!Homina!Homina!"


Then, the plot thins.



Or is it ACTUALLY THICKER!!

Judge4Yourself

Bloomsday is ushered into the crowded conference room and led to the podium.  The city's highest echelon of lawyers have gathered to decide who shall be annointed, and who shall not.  "...or is it 'whom?'" he ponders.

He gulps and reaches into his pocket to find a meticulously folded drawing made a day earlier by his son: a pigeon driving a bus on a rollercoster.  After smoothing out its origami folds, he turns it over to find the words he scrawled while sitting in the hallway, moments ago.

He clears his throat and begins to read this.

"Homina!Homina!Homina!"

Enjoy this controlled release of information prepping us for the mothership's landing.