“We’re the only ones in a neighborhood full of bleeding heart liberals. I told my daughter to take down the McCain sign and get the hell inside. ‘They’ll poison the dog.’”

(press guy at a souvenir stand) “$12 for a coffee mug?” “It will be a treasured memento, sir. Besides, money isn’t everything.” “Obviously you’re working the convention- not attending it.”

(two security guards talking) “So what does GOP stand for?” “I’m guessing… Government… Operations… Programs.”

“Sir, which part of ’No Food or Drink in the Seating Area’ do you not understand?” (hopefully) “The ‘No Drink’ part?”

“That’s one of those Snoopy statues because Charlie Schultz was from around here.” “I think it was George Schultz.”

(one female delegate to another watching Sarah Palin rehearse at the podium) “Her hair looks like a Grecian Urn.” “I think she’s going for the Nefertiti look.”

“Can you imagine having that screen in your rec room?”

(two guys at the bar) “I like the idea of a hockey mom. Kind of like a soccer mom with sharpened steel and a big stick.”

“It’s all about food with her, isn’t it?”

“Is it Pay- lin or Pah- lin?” “Pay- lin. Like the Monty Python guy.”

(two Arkansas delegates) “You see this? Something called the Log Cabin Republicans are holding a ‘Gay ‘Ol Reception’ tonight.” “Gay Republicans? Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?” “I bet they like opera.” “Well, there’s two reasons for them to keep the *% out of Arkansas.”

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Trump's politics are not the problem.

The fiery Milwaukee Sheriff is on the shortlist to head the Department of Homeland Security.

By Wendell Berry

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more 
of everything ready made. Be afraid 
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery 
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card 
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something 
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know. 
So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute. Love the Lord. 
Love the world. Work for nothing. 
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it. 
Denounce the government and embrace 
the flag. Hope to live in that free 
republic for which it stands. 
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man 
has not encountered he has not destroyed.
Ask the questions that have no answers. 
Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.

Say that the leaves are harvested 
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus 
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion—put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come. 
Expect the end of the world. Laugh. 
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts. 
So long as women do not go cheap 
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy 
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep 
of a woman near to giving birth? 
Go with your love to the fields.
Lie easy in the shade. Rest your head 
in her lap. Swear allegiance 
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos 
can predict the motions of your mind, 
lose it. Leave it as a sign 
to mark the false trail, the way 
you didn’t go. Be like the fox 
who makes more tracks than necessary, 
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

Wendell Berry is a poet, farmer, and environmentalist in Kentucky. This poem, first published in 1973, is reprinted by permission of the author and appears in his “New Collected Poems” (Counterpoint).

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