11.09.2016 Daily Links

          BREAKING NEWS RIGHT NOW          

From Common Dreams, an incisive statement about what this election means for scrappy scribes and stalwart citizens who hope to serve a function other than cannon fodder or door stops or organ banks, in a phrase the call to organize, the mandate to find a path to solidarity, the persistence to learn how in hell this system works and analyze it with a vision toward transformation, in the absolute avalanche of blather about yesterday’s ‘prize-fight,’ horse-race, junkyard-brawl, whatever metaphor of battle suits one’s fancy, a gem that commands attention, though plenty more contains irresistible interest, as do the few cases where Democratic candidates prevailed in Senate races, as in Illinois according to The Hill, and New Hampshire  as noted by the New York Times, as do announcements about the inherent ‘drama’ of such close ‘contests,’  like what The Hill reported early in the evening, as do other pronouncements from the same source about the Republican Wing of the ReDemoPubliCratiCan phalanx’s maintaining its House of Representatives majority, as do such notes  as the Washington Post proffers in relation to initial stock-market qualms about the results—all of which exists in a context where horror and shame and warning coexist, an aspect of which a New York Magazine piece presents in regard to Trump’s representing some horrific ‘abyss,’ another element of which a New York Times news story displays in reporting that Russians have been obsessing about the elections and expressing appropriate levels of disgust about the entire process, an additional component of which comes forth from the Rutherford Institute‘s imprecation  to stand up so as to preclude a dictatorship’s grabbing hold of the reins of power in a deleterious, lethally explosive way, a conclusion that, to anyone paying attention, this particular scrappy scribe and stalwart citizen would heartily affirm.

                    This Day in History                  

Today in Bolivia is Dia de los ñatitas, or Day of the Skulls, as much of Germanic Europe celebrated Inventor’s Day and, paradoxically, the United States declares World Freedom Day; in the Iberian Peninsula a thousand three hundred and twenty-two years ago, a Visigoth king in Hispania, at the seventeenth Council of Toledo, sentenced all Jews to slavery with the accusation that they had been assisting Muslims against Christian rule; more or less eight centuries henceforth to the day, in 1494, Florence expelled all members of the Medici family from its realm; MORE HERE

                A Thought for the Day                

As nauseating as the idea seems to anyone with a moral sense, a nostrum of the here-and-now, at least in some rarefied circles, has become that ‘surplus population’ exists—one may, for example, easily perceive such ideation in relation to Palestinians in the Gaza strip, refugees as they make the treacherous transit of the Mediterranean in search of European succor, or migrants from Central America and Mexico who are opportunistically ‘unwelcome’ in the present pass further to the North, and many other groups in different geographical and political settings—a contention as genocidally dangerous as it is irresistibly au courant, infectiously ‘popular’ not because democracy or ‘populism’ inflict murderous inclinations of the minds of women and men, but because those who are running the show these days are in league with such demonic and noisome mandates in order to manage the contradictions and hypocrisies of maintaining their imprimatur atop the apparent human heap that actually operates as a systematic method for advancing certain agendas and suppressing, as lethally as necessary, any hopes and dreams that might contravene that ruling order.

                  Quote of the Day                       
as black as a hook,
overtakes me.
Each day,
each Nazi
took, at 8: 00 A.M., a baby
and sauteed him for breakfast
in his frying pan.

And death looks on with a casual eye
and picks at the dirt under his fingernail.

Man is evil,
I say aloud.
Man is a flower
that should be burnt,
I say aloud.
is a bird full of mud,
I say aloud.

And death looks on with a casual eye
and scratches his anus.

Man with his small pink toes,
with his miraculous fingers
is not a temple
but an outhouse,
I say aloud.
Let man never again raise his teacup.
Let man never again write a book.
Let man never again put on his shoe.
Let man never again raise his eyes,
on a soft July night.
Never. Never. Never. Never. Never.
I say those things aloud.

I beg the Lord not to hear.

                   Doc of the Day                      
“Look again at that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “superstar,” every “supreme leader,” every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there–on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.


The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds.

Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.

The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.

It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.”

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SEARCHDAYpower OR imprimatur OR rule OR hegemony OR influence "common people" OR "working class" OR proletariat OR workers "ruling class" OR plutocrats OR imperialists OR elite versus OR struggle OR conflict analysis OR explanation marx OR radical = 773,000

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              TODAY’S HEART, SOUL, &                                  AWARENESS VIDEO                  


From the estimable creators and aggregators at Aeon, arguably the most compelling two minutes of recent memory, to wit, a documentation of the hour or so that a group of neighboring nomadic dwellers spend in putting together a snug, tidy, dry, and relatively roomy habitat for one of their cohort, a traditional yurt in the grasslands of Mongolia, apt instruction for scrappy scribes and stalwart citizens who wonder about how in the world we are to order our connections with each other so as to live better ourselves, in comity and cooperation and with ‘snug, didy, dry, and relatively roomy habitats’ for our own expressions of humanity.

                     Nearly Naked Links                  

Ancient Atheists
Risking Nuclear Annihilation Without Saying Why
Dorothy Day Portals
From Weatherman to Activist


student writing arm


Elephant Rock Retreat for Writing and Yoga

Birchwood, WI

Elephant Rock Summer Solstice Retreat for Writing and Yoga offered five-day residencies from June 16 to June 21 to poets, fiction writers, and creative nonfiction writers at Stout’s Island Lodge


Rosebud Magazine
William Stafford Award for Poetry

A prize of $1,000 and publication in Rosebud is given biennially for a poem. Lyn Lifshin and John Smelcer will judge. Submit up to three poems with a $12 entry fee by November 10


Bard College

John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Chair in the Humanities

Bard College is seeking a poet of distinction for the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Chair in the Humanities, to begin in 2017. The chair holder will be expected to contribute to the cultivation of the Written Arts Program and to the intellectual life of the college by developing relationships to other academic disciplines and programs