(via ict-*du dot nl)


   "It's Probably About the Bike

Once scheming, to our vast dismay,
Turned ricochet:
And tumbled down emblems of our pride;
And, by the way, three thousand died
In Nineveh.

Is this contrition we display,
To give away
Whatever made our country strong:
Its freedoms, peace, and righting wrong,
O Nineveh?

But empires all at last decay
And yield the clay.
Meanwhile we peasants still need scratch--
Why do we trim our dreams to match
Dead Nineveh?"

--H. P. Pufncraft, S is for Sitzfl*isch (2005)


"...a [Pitjantjatjara] translation of one of David Bowie's songs." (via Languag* Hat)


On my victrola- Col*man Hawkins: Th* Gold*n Hawk


Suav*cito.