Seriously,

sometimes it's fun to entertain Self. Never bored, and just go outside to a back porch and make hoot noises.

Fox often howl.

Dogs will bark.

For fun I'll do that. Howl. Dogs and fox bark in the woods. So, "Thanks for responding back to me" neighbors dogs,

red and grey fox too,

I'll think that to myself.

Alexandra Fuller wrote:

`Don't Let's Go To The Dogs Tonight' I love that A.F. Lady. She reminds me of a red berry holly bush? shuts Ya yawn moth. Seriously, a human heart can be as serious as a imploded heart ache. People write in pain. But, we/me folk can't just be lost in a fog. Shoddy crap loyalist to lies, and the war promoters need HONEST critiques. That's why a vent/rant at Salon's UT. It helps me.

I hope it helps delusions in them/me. Honest critique, in final analysis, helps everybody.

The "Weary" people see clearly the theft-pillage, a human's capacity to degrade, and market spiel daily verbal filth shit. Gads, look at all the cheap products, and SOP-SAD- It's institutionalizes a Suicide global fiasco! It's NOT sustainable. History is a story of blunders, folly, criminal coverups, and a greedy village in the past would graze too many sheep in the meadows, and the CONSEQUENCE was the inevitable loss, and non-fertility of the living topsoil. Earth good soil would erode. Starvation followed. I keep thinking of what Jim White said:`He'd harrow the gold manure into the Earth today. The Holy Earth. Then:` Ugh. Today the market-merchant hides in some sleazy, dank, dark, swarthy motel. A White House turned sty. Suitors as in the days when Homer recorded fellow commenters. O, Surly pals hook up to market more junk.

Wall Street Fools $.

Eyes with $$$- signs,

and blind as dead bats.

O, Cracked Ash Ball Bats.

Worthless Game Hucksters.

O, more Financial transactions,

occur in a cloud fog of total ignorance.

WHAT are the real consequences? DEATH.

Posterity will suffer.

O gas is high or low?

O invade oil real estates.

O murder, shame, pillage.

By any other name? Killing.

`

No Hyperbolic flash, either.

I want to say:`Meeting here?

I knows other's enrich within.

My Gratitude. As J.M. e_p, etc.,

Thee word "Friend" is precious.

More desired than fine ruby, or gold.

I perked my ears in the Bill Moyer's interview when Glenn said hyperbole. Beware. And I also believe in addition to havoc, destruction, and vain people in the spotlight, O a fools prance in a ostentatious promenade... ugh... Watch 'um gargle on TV, and floss fouls breath each other in public mediums. I meand"`Kiss kiss, and suck up, and bow to lick shoes, and lose a soul.

And fake, fake, phony, phony, an NO virtues do people see, and sadly, after a life of:`Phooey, Pure baloney, people pass away to hide in a deserved shame condition. Shame. Ever see a face full of shame? Shame. Shame. Shame.

Whoever digs holes for Karl Rove & Butt-Pals,

that gravedigger will have someone digs his hole.

I say: Gets dirt slapped.

Shovelful. Soil is tossed.

Death is not a hyperbole.

O that's reality, Yes`sum.

My point: Never lose a capacity to sense, and see, and realize good, beauty, wonder, and Natures entertainment too. It's happening perpetually, and right before 'our' eyes too... Open. See. Life is everywhere.

With such a ugly bitterness era,

whatever sense level we experience,

there is a sweetness of Life too. Unending,

and its inexhaustible. It's the Root of Nature.

*

In the poem "Walking"...

To 'walk' abroad is, not with Eyes,

But thoughts, the Fields to see and prize;

Els may the silent Feet,

Like logs of Wood,

Move up and down, and see no Good,

Nor Joy nor Glory meet....

To 'walk' is by a Thought to go;

To move in Spirit to and fro;

To mind the Good we see;

To taste the Sweet;

Observing all the things we meet

How choice and rich they be.-Thomas Traherne

Politely, YESSUM, and harpie everybody.

Tim3 say:`Thanks for your response to me." Pedophile prepares a precious gift. The harpie peddle-(tease)-tricycle. And totallyblase will send Happy Jack on shop sprees for all thee, O meaning, everybody.

Happy Jack @ 6:09.

While We Have Time.

Happy Jack, thanks.

No fall off the pole!

A word *Repentance.

*Repentance is a beautiful word we Americans don't use much. It's as simple as confronting Self so that others will not stop Ya/me in public. Some sad sack will scream:Happy Jack! Ya got a silly looking blueberry pancake crepe hat on top Ya bonehead skull noggin. So, Knuckle Head

Happy Jack does exercise? huh.

Happy Jack does Jumping Jacks.

Retired Military Patriot say so. O.

Michael de Montagne:`say, but,

not good Jim Montage:`say, Who?

"Who so hath his mind set taking,

has no more on what has taken.*

Happy Jack has me into Gratitude*

Happy Jack web site won't hurt Ya.

FUNME2. GG need FARM Gig Next.

Hire? If sing e.i.e.i.o. Farm IQ. Yes.

But, not necessary. Shovel manure.

Muck Manure Make Goo Lawyers.O.

FUNME2 Fun Two Hire FUNME2 OHO.

GG&FUNME2 & 242-FARM FAMILY-o!

Another FUN day in UT Neighborhood.

Ay, I wanted to share a poem: "Walking"...

Maybe later? Maybe muck in barn mud too?

Mennonites awake to milk moo cow. o-boo-moo. baba, baba, baba, moo cow no meow, moo moo, moo moo, baba, baba, no boo. Jim White wake up and go shovel with a pitchfork no bull dung, but gold dung dung doo, horsy go snorts, snort. no mule go moo meow wow, boo, so, where in a heehaw is powwow? I best read Thomas Traherne from the 17th century. moo.

silly. serious too. Blame FUNME2 and Happy Jack. Maybe Salon serves sticky butter and honey flapjack pancakes?