Suppose it were Friday clxxiv: One's heart goes out to poor Roger

Our followers of the rustications
of Jonathan Swift will not forget
his remedial holiday in the house-
hold of a rural divine, documented
for us by Dame Edith Sitwell, in a
bravura display of relevancy in her
biography of Alexander Pope. But to
ponder the case of our poor Roger,
having squandered the best years of
his naughtiness in pitiable exculpa-
tions, only now so belatedly to dis-
cover the blessings of rebuke in a
Federal Court, is to comprehend the
Dean's wistful trepidation on the 
impending return of the lady of the
house. For, who could possibly now
deprive our Roger of his whole car-
eer's affirmation, but some insen-
itive pardoner of his cheeky pranks?

Current events are what they used to be

What very few of us appreciated at the time, early in 2016, was that when Jeb Bush was predicting bitter chaos under any government by the current American President, he knew what he was talking about because his Party had ridden that whirlwind for most of his own life. Just with a luckier hand. The company they used to keep must have taxed their patience as much as it does everyone's, today, but they all knew it in ways the rest of us simply did not. We are the novelty.

Suppose it were Friday clxxiii: A valentine

      Dresden

Jens Buettner
Deutsche Presse-Agentur
February, 2020

Origins of Wednesday cx: Objects of government

Announcement, appearing on the gates of Postman's Park in the City of London, June 2002 --


Postman's Park is Closed until       further Notice

This is to allow a sparrowhawk chick to fledge undisturbed, having left the nest early and committed itself to ground dwelling. 

We apologize for any inconven-ience caused and anticipate that the garden will be open within the next few days.


       City Gardens
       Corporation of London

John Julius Norwich
The Big Bang
  Christmas Crackers
  2000-2009
The Dovecote Press, 2010©

Leaning Klobuchar

In this year's American electoral cyc-

le, I do not expect to write actively

or with superfluous energy to recom-

mend the replacement of the Party in

control of the White House, the Sen-

ate, and the Federal Courts. It isn't

likely that anyone not sharing these

preferences would stumble into this

paragraph long enough to consider it.

Garry Kasparov contributed an invalu-

able essay to The New York Review not

long ago, on an urgency of clear think-

ing in the conduct of coalition polit-

ics, which I do commend to anyone in-

terested in having to choose a nominee.

My own feeling is that Amy Klobuchar, 

a Senator from the Midwest, could well

forge a coalition of the requisite di-

versity, for sustaining an effective

challenge to the offending Party. I can

defend this suggestion, but so can she;

and I advance it less to win assent 

than to substantiate her eligibility.

I cannot say quite the same thing for

certain other candidates, more promin-

ently ranked today in the polls; but

coalition politics compels me to ac-

cept the selection of the Party. This

is not only morally justified, it is

morally obvious. 

To so much as lean toward a personal

preference, in the case of Klobuchar,

is to lean first in favor of the con-

duct of a magnanimous but energizing,

dare I say infectious politics. I do

admire this virtue, this year, very

considerably more than I value the

most shining chimera of a star of any

greater glory. And, to those who sa-

vor a dash of wit in a candidate, she

spares one a leap toward inexperience.

Mildly as it moves one to mention it,

I don't think one can fault her for

being of the gender that flummoxes 

the Party to be defeated, given that

she reflects half of its supporters.

Let us all become comfortable with

her in the vanguard of our coalition.

Max Yavno
untitled
San Francisco
1947

You can't possibly mean we have to do this again ?

 Ah, you were in Iowa last night.

 There's no need to deny it, for

 one can sort of tell - and if we

 haven't gone there, ourself, per- 

 haps we ought to.

 But, yes, to go through that mode

 of election - with all those con-

 testants around, tugging at us in

 one direction or another - is a

 trial not to be revisited anytime

 soon. To have to learn that none

 of this ever registered at all,

 never was measured or counted or

 lasted, and left no trace behind -

 please, don't say it.

 Mother always warned about Iowa,

 and now one can certainly see why. 

 What's hardest to endure, indeed,

 is the thought that she might ev-

 er have heard of it. No wave was

 ever meant to be of grain.

Saturday commute clxxix: No rush

The idea that Pasternak knew these 

lines, and had perhaps carried 

them around in his head for twenty-

five years, really thrilled me,

more than any review I've ever read.

I think the parrotlike way in which

people say there is no 'communica-

tion' nowadays is rubbish really;

communication is having the faith

that if you do your utmost someone

somewhere does and will understand

this and sometime somewhere you 

will know it.

Stephen Spender

1959

Matthew Spender

A House in St John's Wood

  In search of my parents

Farrar, Straus & Giroux

2015©

Origins of Wednesday cix: An acquittal worse than the crimes

                   I've just been clearing my ears

                   from the proceedings in the US

                   Senate, and I must say, I'm sor-

                   ry I bothered. What posturing I

                   have heard, has been enough to

                   persuade me that the staggering

                   leap into denial on display, is

                   grossly worse than the betrayal

                   of the national interest under

                   prosecution. The President's

                   Party gives every sign of being

                   captivated by a perversion giv-

                   ing ordinary Constitutional in-

                   terpretive casuistry a halo of

                   innocence: oh, we forgot to tell

                   you, we've always believed in

                   absolute Executive power. How

                   comical it now seems in retro-

                   spect, to have seized power on

                   the pretexts of tiny government.

                   Credit an Annunciation arriving

                   under deprivation of legality

                   and reason, for exposing to this

                   Party the true, latent, revealed 

                   rights of its disorderly organs.

                   It's bathed in shining awe, to be

                   wringing no longer its hands, but

                   its own neck, out on Fifth Avenue.