I don't have a lot of hope for humanity at this point, but whatever, erm, humans vote for genocide. It's late stage zio-capitalism, new world order chaos, warcrime normal, post-human, psychopathic, midterm you-are-america skeleton dance. 

 

What is the empire of chaos doing? 

 Sorry, the democrat and republican ruling class wants endless war, so many more will die in mercenary genocides, and we are all fucked.

 I remember Rose dying. I remember her dreaming while dying, talking in her dream about being at a long table full of delicious things, tall enough to see, but too small to reach. It seemed she was asking us to lift her up, or hand her some tasty things. She loved food and felt like she had to be frugal all her life. She took us to happy hour to eat free. She asked me to reach down her plaid suitcase and asked if I wanted to keep it, as she wouldn't be needing it again. She said she didn't believe in the afterlife, but I think she felt she was going somewhere, as she was leaving here. When she died I felt Rose rise, Rose rose, and as she rose I saw the butterfly shadows from her sliding glass window on her headboard flying.

Just as I finish writing this I'm listening to a song called Last Breath.

 If you talk to people who died it seems that money and power don't matter. They say all we have to go on is the love we've managed to generate despite the cruelty and the hate.

 Dad appeared in f-book friend suggestions. I sent him a request. I tried to send a message but it said Bruce can't access messages yet.

 Olive Palestine and Bourgeois Coldness. I'm not reading it yet. I'm reading The Director by Daniel Kehlmann first. We're going to make a section on the shelf of Anti-Zionist Anti-Imperialist books. I'm resting my back. Speaking of bourgeois coldness, Obama was at his fortress, in town doing his stump speech song and dance for demockrisy closing the library early.