Jimpressions

Why? Boehner Can't Deliver The Votes

And more at TPM.
Meanwhile, Asian markets open at 2 p.m. (EST?) Sunday.

Today In Other News

I've been avidly reading the back-and-forth on the debt ceiling debate over at TPM with my confirmation bias firmly at work agreeing with those who claim it's all just a show, Kabuki if you will, with Obama knowing full well the R's will never say yes in the end and we'll be back to the so-called "clean" lift, some version of the McConnell/Reid "plan," what everyone knew was the end game but the process has left the R's looking like total morons to the general public, especially the general public that regards itself as independent voters.
A Huffpo report (they do report, sometimes quite well) says the speed bump was a matter of $400 billion disagreement, peanuts.
We'll see.
In the meantime, Amy Winehouse has died, presumably an overdose. I think I saw her perform on SNL. She was talented, lost and doomed.
And then there's the famine, of course.
Think I'll go to the market. Shorty will like that.

Stock I Should Have Bought Dept.

Apple. Yeah, Apple.
Wait, are they publicly traded? I dunno.
And Kottke, I'd lost track of him. Add him to your sometime knowledge/entertainment bookmarks. Les Twins are fun.

Comment O' Teh Day

Someone at MetaFilter has a post today of a somewhat amusing parenting blog/cartoon. But, as usual, the comments are better than the original topic.
From Daddy-O:

When my children were young, I would threaten them with NPR if they got too rowdy in the car. They especially hated Car Talk.

I Was 15

on July 17, 1959, and had never heard of her.
Side issue, how come City Lights owns the rights to O'Hara's poetry? Odd. Ferlinghetti was amazing. Oh, wait, he's still alive, 92.

The Day Lady Died

By Frank O'Hara 1926–1966 Frank O'Hara
 

It is 12:20 in New York a Friday

three days after Bastille day, yes

it is 1959 and I go get a shoeshine

because I will get off the 4:19 in Easthampton   

at 7:15 and then go straight to dinner

and I don’t know the people who will feed me

I walk up the muggy street beginning to sun   

and have a hamburger and a malted and buy

an ugly NEW WORLD WRITING to see what the poets   

in Ghana are doing these days

                                           I go on to the bank

and Miss Stillwagon (first name Linda I once heard)   

doesn’t even look up my balance for once in her life   

and in the GOLDEN GRIFFIN I get a little Verlaine   

for Patsy with drawings by Bonnard although I do   

think of Hesiod, trans. Richmond Lattimore or   

Brendan Behan’s new play or Le Balcon or Les Nègres

of Genet, but I don’t, I stick with Verlaine

after practically going to sleep with quandariness

and for Mike I just stroll into the PARK LANE

Liquor Store and ask for a bottle of Strega and   

then I go back where I came from to 6th Avenue   

and the tobacconist in the Ziegfeld Theatre and   

casually ask for a carton of Gauloises and a carton

of Picayunes, and a NEW YORK POST with her face on it

and I am sweating a lot by now and thinking of

leaning on the john door in the 5 SPOT

while she whispered a song along the keyboard

to Mal Waldron and everyone and I stopped breathing

 

 

Frank O’Hara, “The Day Lady Died” from Lunch Poems. Copyright © 1964 by Frank O’Hara. Reprinted with the permission of City Lights Books.

Source: The Collected Poems of Frank O'Hara (1995)