Faint signs of wisdom

... from the US electorate.

I've ranted elsewhere, and at length, that I've never got what the US citizenry see in the schmuck currently in the Oval office. Back in 2000, watching the election from within the country, I found myself thinking that if the race were between that really irritating and asinine 'It's Pat' character from Saturday Night Live (as just one random example) and Dubya, I'd take Pat. Sure, she/he/it's annoying and vapid--almost the definition of grating, annoying, and entirely without merit. But by contrast, the smirking haircut that walks like a man appointed by Scalia and company makes 'Pat' look positively watchable--even statesmanlike... err... stateswomanlike... err... statesthinglike...

Whatever. Getting back to my point. Always thought the Dubya phenomenon had to be a rather brittle one. As in, once people started seeing this guy for what he is, he's gotta collapse, and not all the Machiavellian nastiness even of a Rove should be able to keep him afloat. Crossing all the digits I can that I was right, and the levels of support will eventually move again, and Dubya's support will fall to levels more soberly reflective of the man's merit--

Like about four votes nationwide.

You might as well sob filing a razor blade

One of the books soaked in our minor disaster a few days ago was a collection of poems by Juan Ramon Jimenez and Federico Garcia Lorca, selected and translated by Robert Bly. Now sitting on my desk, it seems to be recovering well enough, and is now dry enough to leaf through, as long as you're careful.

A happy bit of serendipity. Lots of the works now drying out are bits that have been hidden from daylight too long...

Más vale sollozar afilando la navaja
o asesinar a los perros en las alucinantes cacerías,
que resister en la madrugada
los interminables trenes de leche,
los interminables trenes de sangre,
y los trenes de rosas maniatadas
por los comerciants de perfumes.
-- Lorca

(tr. You may as well sob filing a razor blade
or assassinate dogs in the hallucinated foxhunts,
as try to stop in the dawnlight
the endless trains carrying milk,
the endless trains carrying blood,
and the trains carrying roses in chains
for those in the field of perfume. )