Tolkein's Vogon Poetry

I've been trying to read Fellowship of the Ring again.

I read the series 35 years ago, and it was like slogging through Boston after the great molasses flood. Just agonizing.

Tolkein couldn't write poetry if a gun was held to his head and he was under threat of death to write a decent poem. And every chapter has one, two, or more of his awful fucking Vogon poetry.

I'll be just getting into the rhythm of the story when fucking JRR decides it's time to pull out his Prostetinic Vogon Jeltz mask and begin:

Marshmallow Peeps Are Proof That God Has Forsaken Us

I don't know about you, but when I look at a Marshmallow Peep I don’t see a treat; I see a chemical glow that has no business existing in nature. It’s a neon warning sign in the shape of a bird. Then comes that first bite - that weird, gritty mouthfeel where the sugar crystals scrape against your teeth like fine-grit sandpaper, followed immediately by the soul-crushing squish of a marshmallow that feels less like food and more like a damp, sugary tire.

The Surrenderist Guide to Optimized Existing

 

Lets be honest, the rise and grind culture is exhausting, and most life hacks are designed for people who actually have goals. If I see one more suggestion about waking up at 4 AM to drink goddam lemon water and manifest productivity, I'm going to fucking scream into a pillow until I pass out for another six hours. We do not need to optimize our workflow or shred for summer; we need strategies for when the mere act of perceiving reality feels like a full time job with no benefits. This isn't about winning at life - it's about negotiating a peaceful surrender with the pile of mail on the counter.

Reblogging Michael Jochum - Clots and Prayers

It's extremely unfair to speculate about Trump's health just because he’s elderly and can't form linear thoughts and has the diet of a first grader who won the lottery and his flesh has been changing color like autumn leaves.

Even the most monstrous structures carry a weakness inside them, a small rebellion under pressure. Similar to a blood clot in the physical body. I believe in that weakness. Go, clot. Do your work

Clots and prayers

I fucking love AI sometimes

 

The Greatest Peace Prize in the History of Peace: As told by Donald J Trump - Reblog Michael Jochum

Let me tell you something, folks, and the fake news is going to HATE this, but what happened tonight? Incredible. Historic. People are saying it may be the greatest honor ever given to a president. They’re calling it the “Peace Prize,” but really, it’s THE prize. The only prize. And honestly? It makes the Nobel Prize look like something you get in a cereal box...

THE “TOLLWAY OF DOUBLETHINK" (Reblog: Robert Hawks)

I was walking this morning, turning over yesterday’s little political vaudeville act in my head, Donald Trump stepping out with great fanfare to announce that, in the spirit of lowering your Thanksgiving grocery bill, he’s rescinding tariffs on agricultural imports.

Touching, right? 

Reblog: Robert Hawks, Truth Social Post

WHY and I ask this with GREAT FRUSTRATION, GREAT SADNESS, and frankly a level of OUTRAGE that only a TRUE PATRIOT can understand why is EVERYBODY, especially the Crooked Radical Left Lunatic Democrat SICKOS, still yapping nonstop about Epstein Epstein Epstein, like demented parrots with brain worms, when a MUCH BIGGER, MUCH MORE IMPORTANT, MUCH MORE COSMIC situation is developing right above their tiny little heads?

Sonnet: Donnie the Diaper Man & JD the Wonder Nanny

 

Donnie the Diaper Man, a grown-up squish,

Parades in Pampers, proud and full of pride.

He fills his Depends with a toddler’s wish,

Then waddles off, unbothered, dignified.

His throne? A beanbag, crusted, damp, and low.

His scepter? Teething ring from '92.

He grunts, then calls for JD - “Time to go!”

The Wonder Nanny storms in, wipes in two.

He lifts Don's legs with grace and seasoned flair,

While humming lullabies through clenched regret.

He’s changed more men than diapers, unaware

That Donnie’s leaks are just the warm-up set.

So let this tale of shame and wipes be sung -

A man, a nanny, and a very damp bung.

Sonnet: Donny Sucking Down A Billy Dog Outside the Tasty Freeze

Outside the Freeze, where neon hums and spits,

Stands Donny, clutching glory in his grip -

A Billy dog, with mustard, relish bits,

Its sacred grease now glistening on his lip.

The summer dusk ignites the parking lot,

As Donny leans against the faded wall.

His supper? Just this dog, still piping hot,

A feast for kings, though humble in its sprawl.

He chews with reverence, a slow delight,

Each bite a hymn to hunger’s sweet release.

No need for forks, no napkin in the night -

Just Donny, sauce-stained, basking in his peace.

Let others chase their fame or gourmet dreams,

He’s found his joy in "Tasty Freeze" extremes.

Reblog: Michael Jochum, The Trump Denial Carnival SATIRE

 

A Totally Different Donald Trump, Believe Me. After all, have I ever lied to the American people?

Let me tell you something, folks, and I’m saying this very strongly, the so-called “emails” from Jeffrey Epstein (who I hardly knew, barely met, maybe shook his hand once while sprinting away at tremendous speed), these emails are OBVIOUSLY talking about a different Donald Trump. A completely different guy. Could be an accountant. Could be a plumber. Could be one of those losers who legally change their names just to feel special. Happens all the time. 

Very sad.