Hitchens died yesterday. as much as i hate to use the term, he was a “trail blazer”: patriarch of freedom whose views, polemical as they are and eternal as he’s ensured them to be, probably won’t ever be articulated in as eloquent a manner as he saw them again. i’m not daring enough to try to sum up the amazing life of this remarkable man in one such note, but i have this sneaking suspicion, and i hope it’s an ignoble one, that he might end up being remembered simply as a ‘discerning’ author. or ‘polemic’ journalist or some such nonsense, which would be a grotesque manifestation of the poverty of colloquial vocabulary. it might be more honest to say that he was nothing short of brilliant; i had never heard so many of my views projected into the public arena in as verbally lithe a manner as he presented effortlessly at every debate in use against opponent after opponent, often more than one at once, none of whom would ever realized just how far in over it they really were until the hour grew late and the discourse one sided. i won’t offend his legacy with talk of deification, but i do feel as if he was no less eloquent and bellicose than augustus, if only in his own right. To a warrior, an intellecutal, an iconoclast, a free ponderer, to a seer, to a voice of reason which only death could silence, to one of the most acute thinkers of the 20th century from the views of whom dissent would be no real excuse for indifference; Requiescat in Pace.
i admitted that when my hostess first asked for help cleaning her room, i was…annoyed. but now i’ve something new to admit…that this ‘cleaning’ stuff is…pretty gratifying. my maid must be so happy to’ve given up medicine in her own country for it.
adolfo placeat
fair, behind every powerful man is a powerful woman. but bent over infront of him? his respite from her…sure is fortuitous that he’s in the middle like that to keep them from seeing each other o_o
I think in my most feckless trek
I’ve never met a fool like Beck
a man so drenched with his own tears
he’ll oft forget that No One Cares
a “clown” so deep in “rodeo”
that God’s own will he’s claimed to know
admittedly, mind; that’s his schtick
confessed astride the rightist dick
and bigoted; inimical
clung tightly to his putrid bull
and here a prophet, there a seer
would he impersonate and swear
that in alleged “ailing health”
he’s similar to Christ himself
in urging us our gold to sell?
a shame not crucified as well
professing others saved or lost?
would that *he* had been on that cross
for authenticity’s sake, né?
and then the jews come out to play!
they’d trek from mountains, plains, and hills
sure, meet their share of fools, but still
I pray in *my* most feckless treck
to *never* meet a fool like Beck.
I’d but sit down and think just “how
to end this profligate’s life now”