Bonus RQOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

with his access to the hopes, interests, and trends that drive the future of the global socioeconomic landscape, is mark zuckerberg the most powerful man in the world?

return of the RQOD

DARKlings, i have a twofer today:

am i the only one who thinks that education should be apolitical?



with this run to the fringes, is it time for the republican party to go the way of the whigs?

2 sided coin

it's your carolina chocolate drop, luscious, back from a well deserved island vacay with an interesting twist on your life enrichment. as i was skimming the interweb looking for some new exciting treats for you, i came acroos not one, but two interesting things. one was some cee-lo "i always keep it clean" green, the other was a squeaky grimey christian rapper incredibly named bizzle. take a listen:


mmmmmm, i believe my comrade, Drew Everyday said it best on his twitter page, "i don't usually get down with "christian rap", but ill is ill, and #bizzle got spit #nobonesaboutit"

almost completely opposite from the tone of our man bizzle's ditty, Cee-lo "lean mean" green offers another uniquely real musical diatribe, aptly titled "fuck you":


two very different songs with very different messages, but two examples of how good music and lyricism can enrich your lives, even if only for the few minutes they're in your ears. now if you'll excuse me, this seaweed wrap isn't going to happen by itself....

two for one: "sorry 4 august" day!

Paradigm shift
As a tree loses it’s leaves in mid july
Sun-baked, deprived of nutrients, and water-parched
He, too, begins his slow descent

They depend on each other, the tree and he
The tree, a child in arms, needs the constant care of he
To shoo the pests that would swarm
And feed the soil that does sustain it

He, in turn, is sustained by the fruits of its branch
Nourishing his will to soar
Basking in the arboreal splendor
Shaded from the ultraviolet death rays

the very same that, his protector, feed

leaves hit blades, green tears from its wooden glance
fuel to the ground that now holds it in a strangle
leaves hit blades, dry scabs flaking from its frail phalanges
baked golden brown and delicious by the sun, once food itself

unable to cry for its protector
unable to reach its massive arm, once flourishing, out to he that suckled
and ate from its branch
and basked in its arboreal splendor

perfect symbiosis

now he, no longer fearful of impact
no longer slave to the verdant safety dome
dives with abandon into the brilliant blue
no wing to fly, nor net to fall

an odd thing happens to those faithful leapers
when they abandon reservation
when they conquer doubt
when they discover their own ‘fuck it’ and just jump

eyes wide open into the azure unknown
believing when they are splayed on the awaiting blades
is when discovery and affirmation will reassemble the mess
and this, this will be that which they were always meant

they don’t all plummet.
He glides, slowly and steady as cardiac rhythm
Fueled by the sunburn, now his back
Cheshire expressions as he looks down on his tether and guard

because we shunned august

i thought i'd make it up with something.... creativish....


FEAR

Sixteen was wrong.

Driving isn’t as much the ultimate expression of
youthful freedom for the modern American teen
as it is the ultimate vice of the modern American
adult

Driving alone down a bright
and bustling midday interstate highway,
the mind is ripe with thoughts
of men and women on the trip back from weekend furlough.

Prison

War

Work.

The American dream in Technicolo
friends
welcome to Pleasantville, population we.
We are the lucky few who can feed our vices.

We men of war
we drones
we inmates of societal norm.
we are they by which the gears turn and the cogs
cog.

Let us not forget our fallen comrades.
Those poor unfortunate souls
with their carless nature
and their work-free environment
and their undrafted and non-enlisted existence.

They are the forgotten.
Let us not be the proliferators of this injustice.
To the point at hands
friends

we are not the huddled masses of old.
We are not the huddled masses of old.
We are not the huddled masses of old.

Driving has become mass hypnosis
and we’re all chickens.

We all stay inside the invisible barriers
all the while keeping an eye
for the watchmen.

We mind our speed
thanks in part to the roadside dampeners
zapping our automotive power to the necessary levels
with varied success.

We are mostly powerless against the
omnipotent gatekeepers
waiting for the life giving light of the
bottom face to allow our passage
if only for a preordained period.

On we drive
away from our lives
and back to our lawn care
our 401-k
our mortgage payments
our college loans
our desk job.

Cell walls
tri-faceted and un-flapping
caged in with desk plants
and blue tinted monitors.

Heavens shine countenance down in all its
fluorescent glory.
Fiber glass covered quadrangles
thoughtfully placed

one square separating on both ends
and two across from the next row.
The soothing matrix of the false ceiling
reflects subtly mocking of your life.

So this is the stuff of your dreams:
a steady paycheck
benefits -- dental included
two point five kids, a picket fence
and a well manicured lawn.
In all, a saccharine sweet Rockwell
hanging on the walls of your life.

And a dog.