I personally love Thanksgiving in a sincere way, but here's an interesting poetically topical take by the man who gave us "Naked Lunch."
YouTube - Thanksgiving Prayer By: William S. Burroughs
What do you think?
I personally love Thanksgiving in a sincere way, but here's an interesting poetically topical take by the man who gave us "Naked Lunch."
YouTube - Thanksgiving Prayer By: William S. Burroughs
What do you think?
I liked it
I can't understand a fuckin word that guys says.
Here's the prayer in writing:
Thanks for the wild turkey and
the passenger pigeons, destined
to be shit out through wholesome
American guts.
Thanks for a continent to despoil
and poison.
Thanks for Indians to provide a
modicum of challenge and
danger.
Thanks for vast herds of bison to
kill and skin leaving the
carcasses to rot.
Thanks for bounties on wolves
and coyotes.
Thanks for the American dream,
To vulgarize and to falsify until
the bare lies shine through.
Thanks for the KKK.
For ******-killin' lawmen,
feelin' their notches.
For decent church-goin' women,
with their mean, pinched, bitter,
evil faces.
Thanks for "Kill a Queer for
Christ" stickers.
Thanks for laboratory AIDS.
Thanks for Prohibition and the
war against drugs.
Thanks for a country where
nobody's allowed to mind the
own business.
Thanks for a nation of finks.
Yes, thanks for all the
memories-- all right let's see
your arms!
You always were a headache and
you always were a bore.
Thanks for the last and greatest
betrayal of the last and greatest
of human dreams.
BG, Davocrat, I got to know Burroughs a bit late in his life. He lived in the town where I was attending grad school and circumstances briefly (for about 2 1/2 years) brought us into one another's circle. Burroughs is certainly a problematic character in American literature. There is no disputing his literary genius (Junky and Queer are masterpieces, in my estimation), but he did leave a lot to be desired as a human being. I once partook in a conversation with him about his habit of diddling teenage boys when he lived in Mexico City in the 1940s. And of course, the story of him killing his wife is unfortunate but true. He was also a lifelong smack addict. But I couldn't help but like him, because he was also engaging, smart, interesting, and observant. His poem above speaks to this.
As he once told me, "Thank goodness the Indians didn't kick out the illegal immigrants who arrived on their shores in 1621 cold, hungry, and tired."
Speaking of which, I found this nice little piece of irony:
O Jornal - Oh, the irony!
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