AdamSmith

I don’t know: i think Mueller may have made a better judgment of the voting populace’s eventual timeline to impeachment — AND conviction — than we yet realize.

I attended this thing in person.. .Incredible.

SONNETS AT CHRISTMAS (1934) Allen Tate This is the day His hour of life draws near, Let me get ready from head to foot for it Most handily with eyes to pick the year For small feed to reward a feathered wit. Some men would see it an epiphany At ease, at food and drink, others at chase Yet I, stung lassitude, with ecstasy Unspent argue the season's difficult case So: Man, dull critter of enormous head, What would he look at in the coiling sky? But I must kneel again unto the Dead While Christmas bells of paper white and red, Figured with boys and girls spilt from a sled, Ring out the silence I am nourished by. II Ah, Christ, I love you rings to the wild sky And I must think a little of the past: When I was ten I told a stinking lie That got a black boy whipped; but now at last The going years, caught in an accurate glow, Reverse like balls englished upon green baize Let them return, let the round trumpets blow The ancient crackle of the Christ's deep gaze. Deafened and blind, with senses yet unfound, Am I, untutored to the after-wit Of knowledge, knowing a nightmare has no sound; Therefore with idle hands and head I sit In late December before the fire's daze Punished by crimes of which I would be quit.

Jubilo To Arthur Mizener Hit mus be now de Kingdom comiri And de year of Jubilo . . . Tail-spinning from the shelves of sky See how it dips and tacks and tosses To cast a beam in the mind's eye: Who will count the gains and the losses On the Day of Jubilo? Public accountant with double entry Enter in red war's final cast In the black column the pacing sentry, Old women picking the hogs' mast For the Day of Jubilo Lean to the crowded air and hear, Eavesdropper, how it goes inside Your own deaf and roaring ear: Boys caress the machines they ride On the Day of Jubilo After the dry and sticking tongue After our incivility Who will inflate the poet's lung Gone flat of this indignity Till the Day of Jubilo? Scholar, no dog will have your day For all your capital's run out, Wry baby in wet disarray— Scholar, prepare your meagre clout For the Day of Jubilo Under the slip and slide of day Think, at the end you'll never be Trapped in a fox-hole of decay Nor snip nor glide of history After the Day of Jubilo All our jubilant eyes are raised, Jubilo. Over the barbican On the great Day pure and dazed, Empty of heart the empty man Of the Day of Jubilo Then for the Day of Jubilo The patient bares his arm at dawn To suck the blood's transfusing glow And then when all the blood is gone (For the Day of Jubilo) Salt serum stays his arteries Sly tide threading the ribs of sand, Till his lost being dries, and cries For that unspeakable salt land Beyond the Day of Jubilo. by Allen Tate

'We're cosseting our kids' – the war against today's dangerously dull playgrounds https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2019/oct/31/were-cosseting-our-kids-the-war-against-todays-dangerously-dull-playgrounds-wellcome

https://www.politico.com/news/2019/10/30/federal-reserve-powell-economy-062539

Repost.

That is not very much of an answer, when you bring up a point that goes to the very heart of our republic.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Benjamin_Zander