The Brownsparg

If existentialism is an awareness that actions come from choices, then retirement is a device to foster existentialist thinking, since, absent the confines of work and schedule, one is constantly face to face with the contingency of decisions – in fact, every action becomes a decision if only because nothing is making it necessary at the moment. Some of this is just Prufrock – “Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?” – Should I shave this morning? Or this afternoon? Or wait until tomorrow? — it is clear that Prufrock was a retired person — but it infects every aspect of life. Perhaps this is what makes some people fear retirement, the knowledge that they will have to make, and own up to, a welter of choices.

Ratio of vehicles to household, according to poverty level, and ignoring functionality:
Very Poor – O vehicles
Poor – 6-12
Young Middle-class – 2
Mature Middle-class – 2-4
Wealthy – 3-8

You must learn to listen to music, goes a line in Allison Funk’s poem “During an Eclipse,” and it’s amazing how often that advice is ignored. Almost none of what I’ve seen written on Rap or Hip-Hop talks about the music, as though the grooves behind the words were just background. The words clamor for attention, of course, as do the dance moves, bragging, aggressive, sexual, violent, in-your-face. But the background grooves, with their slow dull beats, harmonies so static as to seem rootless, endlessly repeated downward melodic loops, tell a different story, one of sadness, emptiness and despair. The form’s power comes from the tension between these two messages, between the grooves and the words, and the final say is had by the grooves, illustrating Kafka: In the fight between you and the world, back the world.

You might want to try not echoing quite so directly the words of John Wilkes Booth. The Secret Service has a tough enough job as it is.

You have a bad case of athlete’s foot. You go to the doctor. He amputates your leg. It’s the wrong one. Then he gives you the bill for the operation. After you pay it, he stands there waiting for his tip. That’s AIG.

Definition of a “feminazi” — fat man in a black shirt, screaming hysterically.