Oooh, a Lego Ezra Pound

Man, he was hotter than a two dollar pistol when he was young.  And yes, he was a foul racist blatherer sometimes with skewed up ideas about economics, but he was a damned fine poet.  I can’t remember where I scanged this from.

I’m off to see Persepolis this aft with Keith, and afterwards I’m calling daughter Katie and dragging her over here for a massage.  She sounds beat, baffed, bent, bewildered and entirely tharn. 

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Born when atmospheric carbon was 316 PPM. Settled on MST country since 1997. Parent, grandparent.

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