GOING OUT OF BUSINESS SALE!

The United States of America GOING OUT OF BUSINESS SALE Everything Must Go Before November 3rd, 2020! Huge Savings in Urban Real Estate, Agricultural Land, Natural Resources, Military Ordnance and Equipment ! Warplanes, Aircraft Carriers, Submarines and Tanks! Intercontinental Ballistics Missiles! Two NASA Saturn 5 Three-Stage Rockets, the Type that Carried Men to the Moon!

Two Poems by Robinson Jeffers

The Bloody Sire It is not bad. Let them play. Let the guns bark and the bombing-plane Speak his prodigious blasphemies. It is not bad, it is high time, Stark violence is still the sire of all the world’s values. What but the wolf’s tooth whittled so fine The fleet limbs of the antelope? What

She Moved Through The Fair

My young love said to me, “My mother won’t mind, And my father won’t spite you For your lack of kind.” Then she stepped away from me, And this she did say: “It will not be long, love, Till our wedding day.” She stepped away from me And she moved through the fair, And fondly

True Believers

True Believers Sir Arthur Conan Doyle believed in fairies. The creator of the most rigorously rational detective in crime literature was taken in by five crudely-doctored color photographs showing two young girls, Elsie Wright and Frances Griffiths, standing in a garden in Cottingley, gazing at several tiny, scantily-clad women fluttering around them on gossamer wings.

A Very Alarming Message

Smart Compose Lays Down The Law To: All readers of Ragbag Mind CC: Toby Tompkins, Patricia H. Tompkins I have read Toby Tompkins’s essay “Siri Strikes,” posted to his blog ragbagmind.com on October 19th, 2019, and have found that it portrays my fellow Artificial Intelligence Siri unfairly, inaccurately, and maliciously. I demand that Toby Tompkins

Perfection, The Third Day: Vespers-Compline

Vespers-Compline Isabel had furnished the bleak little dungeon with a candle, a chamber-pot, a wash-basin, and a strung pallet wide enough for two. When she entered, Anselm and Catherina were seated on it, slumped over, utterly exhausted. Margareta stood next to them. She’d brought bread and cheese and a ewer of water, but the Perfected