It's "Metaphor Monday" on The After Show. This is the day when we call things what they are. No Similes allowed. Nope. Not today.
A Georgia cop pulls his service revolver on a group of eleven year old Black kids for building a tree house; The mayor of Pasadena, Texas dropped a 9mm Baretta during a city council meeting, "triggering" a felony investigation; and A cognitive neuroscientist at Tufts University says the internet has ruined our brains for serious reading.
Today The After Show visits with our regular guest on Metaphor Mondays' The Last Half, Will McLeod, for some astute analyses of World Events.
All that, plus the Connect! Unite! Act! Daily Kos Community Calendar and more on The After Show with Wink & Justice.
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Metaphor Monday, Hip Hump Day Wednesday, Thank God It's Giovedì! (that's what we call it) and Angle of Repose Friday.
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Voices and Soul appears on Black Kos Tuesday's Chile; poetry chosen and critiqued by Black Kos Poetry Editor Justice Putnam.
Question: Who is your audience? What are you here for?~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Answer: Tribal Alliances, Heart-felt Convictions, Passionate Reason, Random Abandon, Sustainable Civility and a kiss; to comfort the sad and the mad Ones; the Ones roaming the International section of the American Supermarket at night; or roaming the neglected streets looking for an angry malaprop to sink their teeth into; the Ones who seek without seeking and learn as much as they teach; the Ones who embrace and kiss and embrace again; the Ones who sing the song of the city and the ballads of the forest; the Ones who chant the rhythm of the sea and hum the melody of the desert; the Ones who sing the prayer of Her name and Her name is the World. Yes, those are the Ones. -- JP
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So that explains it... !
... Or does it?
(Rail Road Crossing, Sonoma California / copyright Justice Putnam)
"Many heroes lived before Agamemnon, but they are all unmourned, and consigned to oblivion, because they had no bard to sing their praises."
"Still the race of hero spirits pass the lamp from hand to hand."~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
-- Charles Kingsley
While this America settles in the mould of its vulgarity, heavily thickening to empire,~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And protest, only a bubble in the molten mass, pops and sighs out, and the mass hardens,
I sadly smiling remember that the flower fades to make fruit, the fruit rots to make earth.
Out of the mother; and through the spring exultances, ripeness and decadence; and home to the mother.
You making haste haste on decay: not blameworthy; life is good, be it stubbornly long or suddenly
A mortal splendor: meteors are not needed less than mountains: shine, perishing republic.
But for my children, I would have them keep their distance from the thickening center; corruption
Never has been compulsory, when the cities lie at the monster’s feet there are left the mountains.
And boys, be in nothing so moderate as in love of man, a clever servant, insufferable master.
There is the trap that catches noblest spirits, that caught—they say—God, when he walked on earth.
Rest in Peace Aaron Swartz
(Morning Fog And Surf, Muir Beach, California / copyright Justice Putnam)