concettualmente importante, soprattutto in questo momento storico, è nato LOST – Osservatorio permanente sulle vignette dei naufraghi dei giornali enigmistici. il sito – idea di dm, che colleziona le vignette dei naufraghi da tempi non sospetti, soprattutto in questo momento storico – è in versione beta e vuole essere un luogo di incontro, di scambio, di discussione e ovviamente di ricerca. inoltre, vogliamo portare l’attenzione sul vero argomento ignorato da tutti – destra e sinistra – in questi anni, e cioè i diritti del naufrago. la nostra attenzione è dedicata soprattutto ai naufraghi mono-palma e a quelli con la zattera – per non parlare di quelli dotati solo di salvagente, minoranza drammaticamente dimenticata.
4 months agoWasted Nothing
saturday morning breakfast comics
4 months agoSend “Current Of The River Long Cool Drinks By The Pool (hidden track)” Ringtone to your Cel
The Young Knives - Current of the River
Father bring your sons and daughters
Bring them everyone
To leave them is to love them
Now the time has come
All that you taught them
All that you talked about
Has prepared them well
Father bring your sons and daughters
Ring the warning bell
Riiiing the warning bell
Lock the doors and board the windows
Climb the rooves and spires
Burning brightly in the distance
Are the creeping fires
All that you’ve have worked for
All your prosperity
Will not rescue them
Father fighting
For his family
He will see again
The current of the river
The current of the river
Brings voices on the water
Brings voices on the water
x4
Treading softly
Travel swiftly never turn around
Far behind us
Smoke is rising
Father stands his ground
When you will see him
When you will meet again it is hard to tell
Father save your sons and daughters
while there’s hope in hell
The current of the river
The current of the river
Brings voices on the water
Brings voices on the water
x6
The current of the river
The current of the river
Brings voices on the water
Brings voices on the water
x9
He hangs in glib delight upon his cross, upon his cross,
Above my body, lowly me
Christ forgive, forgive?
Holy He, He holy, He holy?
Shit He forgives, Forgive? Forgive?
I? I? Me? I? I vomit for you Jesu
Christy Christus
Puke upon your papal throne
Wrapped I am in the muddy cloud
Of hellish genocide
Petulant child
I have suffered for you
Where you have never known me
I too must die
Will you be shadowed in the arrogance of my death?
Your valley truth
What light pass those pious heights?
What passing bells for these in their trucks?
For you lord.
You are the flag-bearer of these nations
One against the other that die in the mud
No piety. No deity
Is that your forgiveness?
Saint. Martyr. Goat. Billy.
Forgive? Shit he forgives
He hangs upon his cross
In self-righteous judgment
Hangs in crucified delight
Nailed to the extend of His vision
His cross. His manhood. His violence. Guilt. Sin.
He would nail my body upon his cross
As if I might have waited for him in the garden
As if I might have perfumed His body
Washed those bloody feet
This woman that he seeks
Suicide visionary. Death reveller. Rake. Rapist.
Gravedigger. Earthmover. Lifefucker. Jesu.
You scooped the pits of Auschwitz
The soil of Treblinka is rich in your guilt
The sorrow of your tradition
Your stupid humility is the crown of thorn we all must wear.
For you. Ha. Master. Master of gore. Enigma. Stigma. Stigmata. Errata. Eraser.
The cross is the mast of our oppression.
You fly there, vain flag.
You carry it, wear it on your back, Lord. Your back.
Enola is your gaiety.
Suffer little children (to come unto me)
Suffer in that horror. Hirohorror. Hirrohiro. Hiroshimmer. Shimmerhiro.
Hiroshima. Hiroshima. Hiroshima. Hiroshima.
The bodies are your delight
The incandescent flame is the spirit of it
They come to you Jesu. To you
The nails are the only trinity
Hold them in your corpsey gracelessness
The image that I have had to suffer
These nails at my temple
The cross is the virgin body of womanhood
That you defile
In your guilt you turn your back
Nailed to that body
Lame-arse Jesus calls me sister
There are no words for my contempt
Every woman is a cross in filthy theology
He turns His back on me in His fear
His vain delight is that pain I bear
Alone He hangs. His choice. His choice
Alone. Alone. His voice. His voice
He shares nothing, this Christ
Sterile. Impotent. Fucklove prophet of death
He’s the ultimate pornography
He. He. Hear us Jesus
You sigh alone in your cockfear
You lie alone in your cuntfear.
You cry alone in your womanfear.
You die alone in your manfear.
Alone Jesu, alone
In your cockfear. Cuntfear. Womanfear. Manfear.
Alone in your fear. Alone in your fear. Alone in your fear.
Your fear. Your fear. Your fear. Your fear. Your fear. Your fear. Your fear.
Warfare. Warfare. Warfare. Warfare. Warfare.
Jesus died for his own sins. Not mine.
l’Impero si consolida e si fa sempre più esplicito. e meno male che c’è chi parla di crisi dell’egemonia americana.
5 months ago… alligatò….da confucio coll€nt€ , naluto volp€ a nov€ cod€ € dlagon ball sulla nuvola spidy al vapol€ limolchiata sul callo attl€zzi poich€ avia i p€zzi malossi azziccati € u calbulatuli 26 ca spaldava tloppo molto assai … v€cchio d€tto cin€s€ l amol€ €t€lno dula tl€ m€si… coldiali saluti alligatò… tvb(ti voglio blucial€)
Fonti:
dal discolso di gahndi… € dai tl€ impavidi yehn…. yhe yhe yhe yhe yhe yhe
Forse, oltre a chiedersi come mai a Berlusconi piacciono le ex ragazze di Gino, la sinistra dovrebbe cominciare a chiedersi perché a Gino non piace più lei. Un indizio viene da un altro passo della lettera, dove Gino omaggia Berlusconi come Uomo del Popolo. Ora, se il popolo considera Uomo del Popolo un miliardario che vive fra villoni e guardie del corpo, significa che la parte politica che un tempo si richiamava al popolo ha smesso di fare il suo mestiere: parlare a Gino in modo diverso, ma di cose che interessino a Gino, anche se le cose che interessano a Gino ai leader di sinistra spesso fanno senso. In fondo è il segreto di Obama, uno per cui Gino avrebbe votato volentieri.
