Guantobamano

A Pentagon report requested by President Obama on the conditions at the Guantanamo Bay detention center concluded that the prison complies with the humane-treatment requirements of the Geneva Convention. But it makes recommendations for improvements including increasing human contact for the prisoners, according to two government officials who have read parts of it.
Full New York Times-article here.

So, 2 (in words: two) government officials - unnamed, and thus inofficial - on 'reading parts of it', already know enough to state that Geneva Rules are being met at Guantánamo.

Interesting.

The gentlemen Bush, Cheney, Rumsfeld et al. - altogether (war-) criminals who, under different conditions, perhaps would enjoy the pleasures of life in a Russian gulag or a Chinese re-education camp  - never said anything different.

Now I am looking forward to Mr. Obama's reaction.

In case Mr. Obama shares the opinion of the mentioned criminals by agreeing to the Pentagon Report and therefore deciding to not close Guantánamo as declared during his election campaign, we get following analogy:





Here - due to my exquisite rudimental English -  on 22 February at 23:54 this became a draft and - has been one since.

Today, 61 years after Germany got attacked by Poland - ahem: got it, dear reader? - I think is a fine date to let the draft become a post.

The U.S.A. and the Terrorism

On such a nice day I don't feel like commenting a speech which - once again freely adapting Thoreau - a ready wit could have written a twelvemonth beforehand with sufficient accuracy.

Instead, I let you alone with a terrific ready wit.

Just take your time. It's worth it.

August ending

 

As promised

in a weak moment.

Friday is Skyday

S/he who nibbles the moon away

A full moon ant? Is that the insect that nibbles away the full moon? asked Bertus in the previous comment section, refering to the post's title.

 

Well, and I promised my next post would give evidence of that - ant or not ant - there is indeed a nibbling creature.

Voilà.

Fullmoonant

As - like not seldom these days/weeks, months/years/decades - words did not come easy me (at least not words ... bla bla bla ...

To cut it short:

Yesterday I had a photo...

... but no words.

Today I have no photo but can offer
- with thanks to the esteemed Jams O'Donnell Esq. -
a fullmoonant poem by The Topaz of Poetry.

Hesitating to click the link?
Trust McSeanagall's words (which, by the way, apply to each poem of William Topaz McGonagall):

Poetry at its peak,
each word of praise
would be too weak.

The Master and Margarita

Just some randomly picked episodes from quite a well done film adaption of Mikhail Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita.

Friday is Skyday

That's a beauty

The Laughing Heart

your life is your life
don't let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can't beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvellous
the gods wait to delight
in you.
Charles Bukowski

And now head over to Calum's. Tom waits. ...

The wall(s), the wind and us

Yesterday was the 49th anniversary of this.

And it took almost 28 years for that:

So many hopes, these one, two years. Some got fulfilled. 

Some.

Has the world since become a better place?

Obviously the wind's not being strong enough, hm?

Why blaming the wind, anyway?

It's us who are to blame, hm?

Us.

Not just them. 

Friday is Skyday

The photo(s) could be taken on any other day, though.

If not explicitly mentioned - lazy as I am - what you see will always be the sky over Seanhenge.

Balcony view, looking southeast.
Nah, the cherry-tree does not reach the sky, yet.

Neither does the tree mutate every two minutes.

... but the formation of clouds.
See the face?

Laughing? Crying? Ranting?
What does he feel?

Relaxed, obviously ...

Cover Story 0004 - Ch.18

What We Talk About Love When We Talk About Love

Dreams of dreams
Confusion of the feelings
First love, [last rites]
Days of joy
Erogenous zone
Nights of love and laughter
Kama Sutra
The orgy - an idyll
Little misunderstanding of no importance
Don Juan's temptation
The SirenAn occasion of sin
Suspicion
Now it rains slaps in the face
I want to know why
A touch of chill
Rituals
Sexus

A Ritual To Read To Each Other

[with thanks to Claude who introduced me to this poem from William Stafford, 

by doing so commenting Cover Story Ch. 17 (Rituals).  

If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dyke.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail,
but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider--
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give--yes or no, or maybe--
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.

The peace of the night