He's Polishing My Shahzutt as if It's the Milktooth of a Saint

When marveling at how political realities have so changed that Democrats no longer bother to pretend to represent their supposed constituencies, my current nostalgic kick be damned, I'm finding it harder and harder to remember when I did believe Democrats bothered to pretend to represent their supposed constituencies, or rather, I'm finding it harder and harder to remember when their supposed constituencies needed to be pretended to.

It's not that Democrats suck more than they used to - the capability was always there - it just wasn't in the elites' interest that Democrats suck this much in the past.

• UPDATE! Questions. Here's one: does perfection require authoritarianism?
• Barack Obama versus The World.
• Billionaires versus Obama.
• The World's Shittiest Human gloats.
• Repercussions.
• Repercussions.
• Repercussions.
• Repercussions.
• Repercussions.
• Crackerstan.
• UPDATE! Vote for the scariest candidate.
• For goodness' sake.
• Christian? Muslim? Whatever.
• Democrats will never get another dime, another vote.
• Ken Mehlman totally nude....
• Double-whammy.
• Excellent linkages.
• What Your Fucking Washington Post calls an act of defiance.
• America's 50 worse colleges?
• America's Top 50 MFA programs? Suckers.
• Some New New Toys over at the left. As always, if you've bluug-rulled me and me not you, send me an email.
• New MOCO speed camera sites.
• The local helmetball team will be wearing burgundy at home all season, might bring back the gold pants?
• ReadysetDC.
• Paul Weller.
• Read Seb on 90s music, making sure to click all the links.
• Including Top 50 Videos of 90s (number one is below).
• Vapour Trail.
• Feel it.
• We float.
• Je T'Aime Moi Non Plus.

(ETYMOLOGICALLY) "WORK WORK"

Albert Goldbarth

        2. SHAHZZUT & TYUPAT

Eno's fingers seem as fat as those Red Hot Mama sausages
suspended in brine in a gallon jar, but under my hood
they tweeze out various ailing gobs with the finicky quickness
of surgical pincers. He lifts some oily puzzle-piece into
    the equally
oily light of the shop, as if it might explain
gravity or antimatter. "Shahzzut," he explains to me, "tyupat,"
in the secret fraternal language of auto mechanics. He
sings to himself; no one has ever been so happy. He's
fixing my engine, he sings, he's polishing my shahzutt
as if it's the milktooth of a saint. "Man's work,
whatever its ostensible purpose, is, at any given time,
to sustain the universe." Tribals, "asked the reason
for ceremony X, say that if they missed one year,
cosmos, the world, would collapse." (Richard Grossinger)