Some Time With the Jots and Tittles

There Once Was a Man Named Tittle
And that is true, I did once know a man named Tittle.
And my dad was called "Tittin'" [There's a reason.]
And "Tittin'" reminds me of flitgun.
And flitgun of flyswatter...
And there once was a baseball team called the Sweetwater Swatters.
And the Wichita Falls team on north up the prairie was called the Spudders.
And I once studied down in Louisiana with a psychiatrist who swore he knew what made people stutter.
And I once had a stutterer as a case when I was a caring man with the Orleans Parish Juvenile Court who swore he knew why he stuttered.
"Bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-cuh-cuh-cuh-cuhzzzz-a buh-buh-buh-buh-buh-buh-uss...." "Almost hit you..." I tried to help him along; I was an impatient young man in those days.
"No," he screamed back at me, "No, the buh-buh-buh-buh-usss, di-di-di-di-didn't heh-heh-ttt..." "The bus didn't hit you...." "Quit finishing my sentences for me, you bastard," he suddenly blurted out in unobstructed release. "There, I've cured you," I blurted back.
What an asshole I was in those days. I thought I was a ladies man and had my mind most of those days in those days mainly stuck on imagining what seductive moves could get me in the pants of the several fine women who worked as cohorts with me in the court; to hell with these juvenile half-wits and sociopathic losers, I had my own release to conquer--I didn't stutter about it either when it came to that conquering....

Hilda Doolittle wrote about Freud: "Belief in the soul's survival, in a life after death, wrote the Professor, was the last and greatest fantasy, the gigantic wish-fulfilment that has built up, through the ages, the elaborate and detailed picture of an after life." p. 103, Tribute to Freud.

Ralph Ellison wrote: "The act of writing requires a constant plunging back into the shadows of the past where time hovers ghostlike." [What Andre Malraux called "Consicous thought."]
p. xix, Introduction, Shadow and Act.

Philip Wylie wrote: "This is a world not of sciences, but of religions. The people in it would rather believe than know, guess than learn." p. 1, Essay on Morals.

"Evolution of culture" was Freud's term for "civilization."

Freud wrote: "War may be a way for man to halt evolution."

And again Philip Wylie wrote: "Fear is, moreover, the father and mother of every religion and of all the gods--their offspring, intellectual stupidity." p. 1, Essay on Morals.

H.L. Mencken called journalists "scurrilous inksters."

Charles Ives wrote: "To Emerson, unity and the over-soul, or the common-heart, are synonymous." pp. 99-100, Essays Before a Sonata.

Aspertain, the highly dangerous artificial sweetener (yes, it causes cancer), was developed and manufactered by Searle Laboratories while Donald "Rummy" Rumsfeld was an executive there. All dangerous and deadly ideas lead back to the Neo-Con fuhrers.

NOW: a Poem by Good Old Max Jacob (a The Daily Growler Hall of Fame Poet)

War Night: the outlying boulevards are full of snow. The muggers are soldiers; attacking with laughter and swords, they strip me of everything. I escape, only to end up in another square -- is it a barracks square or an inn yard? All those sabres and lances. It's snowing. Someone sticks me with a needle: a poison to kill me! A death's head veiled in crêpe gnaws my finger. Dim streetlights cast my corpse's shadow on the snow. Le cornet à dés

thegrowlingwolf
for The Daily Growler