Total topics: 181
As a response to the recent addition of the GOLD MEDAL ACHIEVEMENT "Friend Of The Crowd," which requires participants to
"Receive 25 likes for a single forum post or debate comment"
(An occurrence that has no natural precedence or likelihood on DART),
I am suggesting this posting as one possible solution. Anybody can and should add a post to this topic that simply says "Hello, please like me" or something else to that effect. I ask that we refrain from any posts designed to make anybody else feel unwelcome posting here or anywhere on DART- no cursing, no pro and anti anything. The goal here is to get everybody to like everything ponzi-scheme style. Before you post, you must like every post before you. If there are more than 25 posts you can stop after 25 likes but I'd encourage every poster to continue liking.
New people! If you'd like some way to introduce yourself- just like everybody before you and tell us that you have arrived. Everybody you liked will already be in your debt.
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Miscellaneous
The Red Wheelbarrow
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
-William Carlos Williams
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Personal
II.
Angustam amice pauperiem pati
robustus acri militia puer
condiscat et Parthos ferocis
vexet eques metuendus hasta
vitamque sub divo et trepidis agat
in rebus. Illum ex moenibus hosticis
matrona bellantis tyranni
prospiciens et adulta virgo
suspiret, eheu, ne rudis agminum
sponsus lacessat regius asperum
tactu leonem, quem cruenta
per medias rapit ira caedes.
Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori:
mors et fugacem persequitur virum
nec parcit inbellis iuventae
poplitibus timidove tergo.
Virtus, repulsae nescia sordidae,
intaminatis fulget honoribus
nec sumit aut ponit securis
arbitrio popularis aurae.
Virtus, recludens inmeritis mori
caelum, negata temptat iter via
coetusque volgaris et udam
spernit humum fugiente pinna.
Est et fideli tuta silentio
merces: vetabo, qui Cereris sacrum
volgarit arcanae, sub isdem
sit trabibus fragilemque mecum
solvat phaselon; saepe Diespiter
neglectus incesto addidit integrum,
raro antecedentem scelestum
deservit pede Poena claudo.
-Horace, Odes 3
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AUGUSTUS
Jet pears hung squalidly against the drapes
and his fingertips glistened with frost.
The orange sun melted his nape.
In his drafty palace, there lived a statue
and over the palace Augustus sent his vines,
cerise cries in the white air.
Tender little shots rang out.
Waterfalls swelled and kissed before him,
knelt and screamed as crowns spun
through the night, the night of Augustus
which was like an army of marauders,
unceasing and full of insight,
the dashing snow! the fierce! the free!
and the waterfalls were still as flames.
The voices began, like so many daggers.
At first Augustus only felt them
as doves attempting to hide in his breast,
but soon they surrounded him completely
like a crown of screams, as clearly as sand
pouring through glass in the winter desert.
He was the metal of his crown at last.
Frank O' Hara
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jetblue
there's that moment between
the flapping and the fall, the
old Neanderthal husk flutters south-
gripped by the mass of matters.
the flapping and the fall, the
old Neanderthal husk flutters south-
gripped by the mass of matters.
once leveled off & Rothko we suspend
but worry & the weight of wings:
our dark & heavy things float soft
above the fluff struck dumb.sunward pulling, trailing vapor
wake and waking find
a thousand miles displaced:
this place more sensible
by the difference &
the threat of rain.after the burn but before
the sinking sets: we get
the photon for one moment
then we go.
but worry & the weight of wings:
our dark & heavy things float soft
above the fluff struck dumb.sunward pulling, trailing vapor
wake and waking find
a thousand miles displaced:
this place more sensible
by the difference &
the threat of rain.after the burn but before
the sinking sets: we get
the photon for one moment
then we go.
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To the Moon
I
Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth, —
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?
II
Thou chosen sister of the Spirit,
That gazes on thee till in thee it pities ...
-Percy B Shelley
Observe his flame,
That placid dame,
The moon's Celestial Highness;
There's not a trace
Upon her face
Of diffidence or shyness:
There's not a trace
Upon her face
Of diffidence or shyness:
She borrows light
That, through the night,
Mankind may all acclaim her!
And, truth to tell,
She lights up well,
So I, for one, don't blame her!
Mankind may all acclaim her!
And, truth to tell,
She lights up well,
So I, for one, don't blame her!
Ah, pray make no mistake,
We are not shy;
We're very wide awake,
The moon and I!
Ah, pray make no mistake,
We are not shy;
We're very wide awake,
The moon and I!
-W.S. Gibert
We get it almost every night
When that moon is big and bright
It's a supernatural delight
Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight
Everybody here is out of sight
They don't bark, and they don't bite
They keep things loose, they keep 'em tight
Everybody was dancin' in the moonlight
Dancin' in the moonlight
Everybody's feelin' warm and bright
It's such a fine and natural sight
Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight
We like our fun and we never fight
You can't dance and stay uptight
It's a supernatural delight
Everybody was dancin' in the moonlight
Dancin' in the moonlight
Everybody's feelin' warm and bright
It's such a fine and natural sight
Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight
We get it almost every night
When that moon is big and bright
It's a supernatural delight
Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight
Dancin' in the moonlight
Everybody's feelin' warm and bright
It's such a fine and natural sight
Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight
Dancin' in the moonlight
Everybody's feelin' warm and bright
It's such a fine and natural sight
Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight
Dancin' in the moonlight
Everybody's feelin' warm and bright
It's such a fine and natural sight
Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight
Dancin' in the moonlight
Everybody's feelin' warm and bright
It's such a fine and natural sight
Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight
Dancin' in the moonlight
Everybody's feelin' warm and bright
It's such a fine and natural sight
Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight
-Sherman Kelly
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Personal
Kubla Khan
(Or, a vision in a dream. A Fragment. )
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round;
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:
And mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean;
And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight ’twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
-Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Jasper Johns + Last Stanza of the Battle Hymn of the Republics + poetic commentary from the brilliant Sharon Olds
In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me.
As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,
While God is marching on.
(Chorus)
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
Our God is marching on.
I didn't know what it meant that he was born
in the beauty of the lilies, maybe bulbs that had been
planted around the timbers of the stable,
or the myrrh king came after the birth, and he was
born in the beauty. Maybe on the longest
night of the winter he was somehow born
on Easter--born risen. I loved that he was
born across the sea, as if born into the whole
width of the air, between here
and that holy place, the barn under
the meteor. They didn't talk about the hay,
or the water-trough, or the blood, or the milk,
or the manure, with its straw-seeds inside it, but sometimes
they showed him in her arms, almost nursing,
the light around his head like a third
breast in the scene, and they said he was born
with a glory in his bosom--he had his own
bosom, as if he was his own mother
as well as his own father. And she wore
blue, always unmarked, she never wore
fleur-de-lys, and yet he was born
in the beauty of the lilies. This morning, when I looked
At a lily, just beginning to open,
its long, slender pouch tipped
with soft, curling-back lips, and I could peek just
slightly in, and see the clasping
interior, the cache of pollen,
and smell the extreme sweetness, I thought they were
shyly saying Mary's body,
he came from the blossom of a woman, he was born
in the beauty of her lily.
-Sharon Olds
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Personal
Let America Be America Again
Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.
(America never was America to me.)
Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed--
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.
(It never was America to me.)
O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.
(There's never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")
Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?
I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek--
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.
I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one's own greed!
I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean--
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today--O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.
Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That's made America the land it has become.
O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home--
For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,
And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa's strand I came
To build a "homeland of the free."
The free?
Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we've dreamed
And all the songs we've sung
And all the hopes we've held
And all the flags we've hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay--
Except the dream that's almost dead today.
O, let America be America again--
The land that never has been yet--
And yet must be--the land where every man is free.
The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME--
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.
Sure, call me any ugly name you choose--
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!
O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath--
America will be!
Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain--
All, all the stretch of these great green states--
And make America again!
-Langston Hughes
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He says he doesn't care so much about medals so I don't know if he noticed (I would have assumed he'd have published a new topic in self-praise if he did), but early this morning RatMan won his hundredth debate:
1
RationalMadman
147
100
37
10
71.43%
1623
1,332
263
2
Alec
31
22
6
3
75.81%
1655
632
63
3
Virtuoso
44
20
17
7
53.41%
1567
713
113
4
Speedrace
29
19
9
1
67.24%
1645
507
64
5
Sparrow
45
19
21
5
47.78%
1481
37
2
Which also means that RM is the first to achieve every medal and is so far ahead of number 2 that he's likely to be the only user to achieve every medal for a very long while. We can complain of his madness and methods but there's no denying this result. There's also no denying that RatMan is highly original, creative, amusing and the most engaged force on this site.
Congratulations, RatMan and well done. In your honor here is a link to the Wikipedia entry for Rat king-https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rat_king
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DebateArt.com
from Howl
II
What sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?
Moloch! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!
Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!
Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgment! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!
Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!
Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovahs! Moloch whose factories dream and croak in the fog! Moloch whose smoke-stacks and antennae crown the cities!
Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!
Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream Angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!
Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!
Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisible suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!
They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!
Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies! gone down the American river!
Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!
Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years’ animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!
Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!
-Allen Ginsberg
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SupaDudz Memorial Profile Pic Pick o' the Week: No. 18 - I FEEL LOVE, I FEEL LOVE, I FEEL LOVE, I FE
I was going to go with famous Greek homosexuals in honor of supadudz's pride resistence but this felt somewhat nicer.
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&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Divinity
As men, for fear the stars should sleep and nod,
And trip at night, have spheres supplied;
As if a star were duller than a clod,
Which knows his way without a guide:
Just so the other heav'n they also serve,
Divinity's transcendent sky:
Which with the edge of wit they cut and carve.
Reason triumphs, and faith lies by.
Could not that wisdom, which first broached the wine,
Have thickened it with definitions?
And jagged his seamless coat, had that been fine,
With curious questions and divisions?
But all the doctrine, which he taught and gave,
Was clear as heav'n, from whence it came.
At least those beams of truth, which only save,
Surpass in brightness any flame.
Love God, and love your neighbour. Watch and pray.
Do as ye would be done unto.
O dark instructions; ev'n as dark as day!
Who can these Gordian knots undo?
But he doth bid us take his blood for wine.
Bid what he please; yet I am sure,
To take and taste what he doth there design,
Is all that saves, and not obscure.
Then burn thy Epicycles, foolish man;
Break all thy spheres, and save thy head.
Faith needs no staff of flesh, but stoutly can
To heav'n alone both go, and lead.
-George Herbert
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La Gaule unie
Formant une seule nation
Animée d'un même esprit,
Peut défier l'Univers.
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Personal
1
Ramshutu
15
14
1
0
93.33%
1644
488
379
2
Alec
29
20
6
3
68.97%
1637
541
63
3
oromagi
14
14
0
0
100.00%
1626
136
97
4
Ragnar
11
11
0
0
100.00%
1625
155
68
5
blamonkey
9
9
0
0
100.00%
1625
52
18
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DebateArt.com
Per the eponymous dear departed
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Personal
That or RatMan has a new alt called certificates
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DebateArt.com
Per Alec
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Personal
RIP Peter Mayhew
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Personal
Avengers is the theme
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Personal
For all you non-Eastern Orthodox, Happy Easter
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Alec
28
19
6
3
67.86%
1628
393
63
RationalMadman
98
71
19
8
72.45%
1621
1,121
131
blamonkey
8
8
0
0
100.00%
1615
47
13
MagicAintReal
12
8
2
2
66.67%
1576
352
7
PsychometricBrain
5
5
0
0
100.00%
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DebateArt.com
For Easter..... hey, it was that or rabbits.
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Personal
Toast St. Pat with a pic of your favorite beverage. Slainte!
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Personal
Not so much the activity of golf which is fine but the culture of golf: the clubiness, the maximized use of open space for minimized numbers in urban areas, the water usage and the carefully manicured lawns and the interminable whispered weekend tv matches and the tax breaks and the presidential golf traditions. Driving ranges? Good sport. Putt-putt? Excellent family fun. Country clubs in city centers? No, thanks.
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Sports
Well, SupaDudz has clearly abrogated his profile pick responsibilities- like that guy who initiates the ballpark wave but then when it comes around again acts like he's too cool to carpool and just sips on his beer: so I've assassinated SupaDudz and assumed his role. My first act is to move this shit to the PERSONAL category. Cuz that's all it is, just hey what are you into? If a picture paints a thousand words then why can't I paint you, etc. Speaking of assassinations, the Ides of March is next week so we're doing profile pics of the famously assassinated.
I'm going with Wikipedia's dead Rasputin .jpeg- in honor of SupaDudz.
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Personal
As we approach St. Patrick's Day, it's important for us to remember that everybody loves an Irishman because an Irishman loves everybody.
Name three awesome Irish things. I'll start:
1. Pints of Guinness lined up on the bar.
2. The Rock of Cashel.
3. The final paragraph of Joyce's "The Dead."
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Miscellaneous
Hickenlooper announced his candidacy for the presidency today. I know he does not have much name recognition outside of Colorado and he is certainly not the kind of charismatic controversy machine that the Democratic party seems to think necessary to combat Trump in the general but for people of any party who are looking looking for competent, moderate, rational leadership - Hick is definitely worthy. For that moderate remnant of the Republican Party who supported Kasich in 2016- note that Hick and Kasich have worked and campaigned together on a number of issues - including healthcare and there remains some real talk about a dual party ticket. Hick is a sort of Democrat's Kasich.
Hickenlooper was working in Denver as a geologist researching oil shale when Black Monday and Silverado crashed Downtown Denver's economy hard. Vacancy rates in downtown skyscrapers approached 90%. Hick took his science into craft brewing, opening his first restaurant and pool hall in the heart of skid row and made it the busiest restaurant in Denver in his first year. Forming a triumvirate with a local newspaper editor and a bookstore owner, they transformed downtown in the space of years, rejuvenate hundreds of historic, abandoned buildings while leading on major projects like Coors Field, Pepsi Center, Union Station. Now that first restaurant sits at the heart of an entirely transformed city of young, wealthy techsters. He took his successful formula into restaurant consulting and led the microbrewing revolution- opening hundreds of restaurants across the west and getting very rich. If the Front Range is truly now as many call it the Napa Valley of Beer- Hick can claim more credit for that transformation than anybody else.
When he ran for Mayor, I really thought he was too soft-spoken, too detail oriented. But in terms of economic growth, Hick proved to be the most successful Mayor the city has ever seen. Then he did same as a two term Governor. He handled the three worst natural disasters to hit our state without breaking economic stride. He opposed legalization of marijuana personally but worked hard to build in build in gently regulated supply chains, price controls and tax structures that are now the envy of less forward-looking states like California.
His family is rooted in Iowa politics- a cousin was Governor and four term Senator there. He's certainly not as Green as most Democrats would like- his deepest money support comes out of his old oil industry background. He's not a Medicare for all kind of guy but he has a lot of ideas about how to bring prices down. He's believes in Capitalist solutions and has a solid track record on that front. He's a scientist and an entrepreneur and his leadership style reflects those backgrounds.
Hickenlooper was my boss for a couple of years during the early day of his first brewpub. I didn't know him well but he was a good boss- a communicator, a forward-thinker, a scientist. He created a fun, busy, laid back business and fostered deep loyalties from many passionate people.
Does he really have enough mojo to make an popular national candidate? Probably not. But for Americans who are tired of the waste and inactivity caused our present polarization, Hickenlooper is a solid centrist deal-maker that genuinely represents the kind of effective executive most Americans say they want.
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Politics
name ONE favorite US President
name ONE excellent Presidential biography/autobiography
name ONE favorite fictional President
describe ONE excellent presidential movie scene briefly
cite ONE excellent presidential portrait or painting
name ONE US citizen who you’d like to see as president
summarize ONE favorite presidential anecdote OR cite TWO favorite presidential quotes
NEVER repeat any ANSWER
Compliment prior posters generously
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People
love my funky little square red car
looks after me and he takes me far
he likes to speed a bit above the bar
watch out for sheriffs shouting out radar
junky spunky little squirrel red car
worn black plastic wrap interior
pop out the backseats time to make some
take this piano to the bride and groom
honda civic frame with four wheel drive
four thousand down trips up old I-twentyfive
not much on comfort no she's not much on looks
got extra bungie cords on extra hooks
okee dokee little hunchback car
looks after me and she takes me far
keep chugging on and away we'll wander
roll down the road with me a little longer
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Artistic expressions
The Bourne movies are back on HBO and I'm reminded that these movies did a grave disservice to the literary character of Jason Bourne's wife, Marie St Jacques. In the books, Marie is the brains of the operation as Bourne is too carefully programmed to effectively investigate his identity. She is a brilliant economist and Canadian diplomat who saves Jason's bacon more often than he saves her. As the novels progress, Marie marries Bourne and they have two children. She continues to support Bourne's missions with intel from home base. In the movies, she's an aimless drifter who's relatively overmatched by circumstances and is merely added to the carnage early in the second installment. Some argue that the feats of deduction that assemble an assassin's biography, (the core narrative of the novel), would play less well than karate with a rolled-up newspaper on screen. Maybe. But Bourne is also stripped of the dynamic that makes him more than the cinematic killing machine. Marie's character is why Jason Bourne is teaching linguistics at Georgetown- healing, progressing, discovering new loyalties that sustain 12 literary installments of interest in Bourne's story, while the static brute of the movie versions get uninteresting by the third story.
I'd like to see a more faithful adaptation of the original Bourne Trilogy, set in the 1980s, something like a 12 part Netflix series might be the best venue. Casting? I think Julia Stiles would be great as Marie....try Tom Hardy as Bourne.
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Show business