The Refectory Manager

The refectory . . . A place to nourish the soul. A place to share the savory comestibles, the sweet confections, the salty condiments of the things that matter. A place to ruminate the cud of politics. A place to rant on the railings of religion. A place to arrange the flowers of sanguine beauty. A place to pause in the repose of shelter. Welcome, my friend. The Refectory Manager

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Location: College Place, Washington, United States

Thursday, July 10, 2008

I mi that letter

The dual purpoe cover/keyboard to my little tablet computer took an inulting hit. I know I have abued the poor thing, but to looe that letter of all letter. When I dicovered it, my immediate reaction wa “hit! I can’t even ay hit!”

Needle to ay, I’m not amued.

Nor wa I yeterday after that enate vote to pardon Buh from 40 ome felonie with that telecom immunity legilation evicerating the 4th Ammendment.

The 4th Amendment i jut o quaint.

Who in the hell need that? What a nuiance it i when fear i the operative word. Oh, the thing we get from fear. Intertate high way for one . . . . needed to get people out of the citie when Ivan nuke. At leat that wa the excue Ike ued to get them tarted.

Now it i all thoe internet. Thoe pipeline or whatever that enator from Alaka called them. And all thoe atellite channel. Brain-cooking cell phone call. Who care what atellite they bounce off of a long a it in’t poitioned omewhere out over CONU.

But maybe thing are jut hunky! ome contractor geek for NA i correcting my grammar for me. How nice.

And here Obama i the one that voted capitulation and Clinton held her ground. ix week I ago I would have worn it would be the other way around. And McCain did no vote at all.

It o much more exciting when there are real voting choice.

Like chooing between one entrenched party that deecrate the Contitution and another entrenched party that reliably capitulate in that deecration.

And the Libertarian are about a ueful a tit on a boar when they could effectively make a difference.

I wear I’m being forced to going back into ome fundie right-wing religiou-nut-fold and to pray to God that enough homo get married that we invoke the Tribulation.

Finally, mercifully, God then jut incinerate thi place, get it re-inoculated with pace alien, and let Darwinian evolution get it right the next time.

But wait. The fundie think they will be thoe pace alien. And they never did believe in Darwin.

What a mell of a he we are in.

And I don’t know if thi i all nark or not.

But I do mi the damn letter “s.”

The Refectory Manager

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