J Max Johnson

Ha, that is fun. Who strickles the strickler?

Yo dawg, I heard you like widening gyres,
so we put a Second Coming in your long-range fires!
Gaze like a sunrise, moving its slow thighs—just wait'll
that lion-body Bugatti be rocking that cradle:
dropping that dark plenty; waking up stoned twenty,
rough slouching to Bethlehem 'cause they pro-natal

It really does represent one logical conclusion of social media's evaporation of the public/private distinction. I'm no celebrity, but I now have an unauthorized grokipedia entry and an eponymous grammarly bot.

We're all public figures now, and public figures have less control of their likenesses.

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Your query did not match our indexed convent.
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or cry more general terms. AI suggests:
• a bottomless blue rosary of rubble
• agentic hanging from a cross of iron
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Another strategically ambiguous day at the credible military options factory.

Before long, from far over whale-roads, the folk would bring
many golden gifts to give—that was a good king!
Then afterwards an heir, in answer to the people's prayer,
leaderless so long, the Lord endowed a Wielder of Wonder:
Beowulf was loud; boast of his fame flew farther than thunder.

The MAGA Plot to Take Down Canada A growing movement of MAGA-pilled Albertan separatists would happily break up the country to be closer to Trump.

This is an excellent summary of the looming Alberta Crisis. Probably not much much new information if you’ve been following the issue, but it’s one that neatly lays out the pieces on the board

I'm no expert, but yes absolutely, another reason I'd expect to see a blockade attempted before amphibious invasion. I wonder about the logistics for countermine/offensive minelaying in that situation.

I like writing to a character limit. Not as conducive to focused imagery as, say, haiku, but I find its virtuality & social context compelling. Like I want to inscribe something dignified on a standing stone, but it feels more like yelling into a mic until an oversize shepherd's crook pulls me away.

Hwæt! We Spear-Danes of years-waned when our foes fled
power of the people-kings, heard Athelings with honour bled—
how Shield Sheafing was cleaving all the squadroned dead.
From many multitudes he took his mead, he whirled Earls;
rags to riches, he waxed in wealth till fate repaid him pearls.

25 years ago, all our base were belong to us. Then...
What happen? Someone set us up the bomb.
But we had our chance to survive, make our time.
We knew what we doing:
Take off every Zig.

Can't grasp this, 'cause you're a Sacabambaspis—
Back To The Past with your Stab-In-The-Back Myths.
The fact is you fascists can't make enough lashes
To enslave the new wave—your mass grave collapses.
You're jawless! For the last time, your Lost Cause is
Balls to the wall for the emoluments clauses.

Same, though I sometimes feel alienated & lonely doing so. It occurs to me one reason I come to Bluesky is to feel 'in communion' with some church of fellow seekers, fathoming the same mysteries. But I don't think that's healthy or sustainable for me.

Neat. I'm having a sort of 'Come Back to Jesus & Bakunin' moment myself—not as True Belief but actionable touchstone when I feel myself getting carried away by the maddening hyperreality of Productive Forces.

Ellul sounds like a more insightful Marcuse—a teleological totalitarianism of technicians, if you will. I dunno how much sense it makes. Compels me though.

Oh yeahhh that guy... to be fair, giant siege tower notwithstanding, Besieging was like the most normal thing he did? I mean they could have called him Demetrius the Blasphemer Who Had Sex On Our Statue Of Athena

This is about not reading Chinese history Eurocentrically, but this is what scares me about the USA today. State capacity is shredded while border forces fail to quell rebellion. POTUS is one big flood away from losing the mandate of heaven. Absent ideological consent, the melting-pot boils over.

To refute the lie:
That they have all the power.
This world is ours—before you die,
Will you fight? Or will you cower?

We were marked out for destruction
When the cradle was our grave,
We were called abominations
Whom no loving God could save.

We were branded in the darkness
And though many of us fell,
Let not Heaven stand against us—
We have clawed our way through Hell

Le roi se saoulait de son fable;
Puissances moyennes, unissez-vous!
Mort aux fictions agréable—
Si pas à table, t'es menu!
Marchands d'légumes, animé par ce vibre
Le nouvel ordre nous jetons
Au place publique sonore, diverse et libre—
Rénoncez tous les hégémons!

Those dogs have learned the taste of human flesh & they are wild again. Come & see what holds up Maya's veil:
[violated Terms of Service]
They shot them all—they had to shoot sled dogs in Labrador after the Spanish Flu. One of them had saved an orphaned girl, stranded for months. They shot him, too.

This has bothered me on and off all throughout today. And it shouldn't. But it's because this should be a slam dunk for the government, but the ball is rolling past the broad side of a barn. #cdnpoli

Correct.

God, I wish our intelligence service were half so potent as the Woke Muslim CSIS of John Waterman's imagination right now.

Gregory Bovino's face has been edited onto the winner of the 1943 R. Hoe & Co., Inc., National War Poster Competition: THIS IS THE ENEMY

Well I guess now's a good time to share this meme I thought was maybe a bit too inflammatory a few months ago...

Time to circle back to "the radar feeds from Pituffik and the NWS in Canada are leverage"

It's not a threat to be made lightly, but it is one that will cause Omaha to shit its pants

I don't know what you're going through
but I see you going through it.
& I don't know when the tunnel ends
but you bring a light into it:

two genocides, democratic backsliding & war in Europe,
it's hard to stay woke when
every news cycle for months feels like
three 9/11s a day & everything's broken

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