Hey Amerika - Johnny Pulp and the Lemonheads

"Spoken to plenty of Latino Trump voters, and many basically said: 'The economy sucked for me under Biden. Covid shutdowns, inflation, housing costs going up. Entonces—he's fired. Time for something new.' Sometimes it's not more deep than that." As we noted a couple of weeks ago, quoting the historian Adam Tooze, "If we focus only on food and energy, the price shock of 2021-2 was worse than that in 1973. It is second only to the Iran-crisis shock of 1979, the crisis that put paid to what little chance Jimmy Carter had of reelection in 1980." Add to that the "magical" correlation-is-causation thinking of the typical clueless voter (economy was better under Trump, therefore Trump caused it, therefore he will cause it again), and this is the outcome.That means all the chatter about Trump's obvious mental and physical decline, his terrible campaign, his lack of a "ground game," the fact that most of his prior Administration thinks he is "unfit," Harris's "joyful" campaign, Republican "weirdness" etc.---all of it meant nothing. The whole event was another vindication of Achen and Bartels' Democracy for Realists. At least we may hope never to hear from that quack Allan Lichtman again ... Leiter Reports.

I'd have been worth it for a while and that is not all, how could it be? sunsets and dooryards and sprinkled streets your skirt trailed across the floor its impossible to say it to say what I must mean. the cat in the blue window's an eternal footman turn back and find time for you for me and I have know these eyes and arms seen shadows wriggling on the walls Days are smoothed by long fingers evenings rise up like smoke a hundred visions and some revisions and a dark and a cheating heart. Let us go then and overwhelm the corners of our living make a sudden leap into a muzzled time Restless nights and retreating days I read tedious arguments and spread out on my bed and am deserted. St Stephen connects nothing with nothing as if to Carthage came and under my feet the leaves and my heart rise and fall Days seem to be forgotten in the cry of the gull. Hot coffee tastes of the deep sea swell by the station and the buses pass their stages and there are people passing by so humble they expect nothing and nothing is delivered. I was handsome as Phlebas once - in your dreams boy Ha! Well I can enter the whirlpool with a certain panache there's always a kind of profit and loss when you've passed the stages of age and youth. Call to me and then call me if after the torchlight of sweaty faces and the agony of stones and silence the cracked earth becomes like water, like water. Every girl you've ever had walks with you This is the city over the mountains In churchlight and bursts of the violet air Falling towers Athens Alexandria Vienna London out to the South China seas and Mongolian sandy roads , the hooded girl walks on the side of you like lamentations Unreal girl, you're unreal and an unwinding silence. The days are wrapped in brown felt and there's a mistle thrush in a pine tree and a magpie on a wall and everywhere baby faces and music and wing beats and an agent with the jangling keys a white van making a moment in glass whilst you hear a pacing about the next room and a mandoline in a bar with few choices. Don't look for life in obituaries and there's always damage in a moment's surrender what you've placed against your ruins is your heart and its ethereal rumours. You don't know and you never did though you've been mad once at least And have fragments strewn out on the waters. This is a awful daring against a strong wall where memories might be like the spiders webs you caught in case some seal was broken and lean solicitors tried trouble. There's no way to set your lands in order and your fathers going to keep wanting obedience And the time of a broken Cornelius will have passed And the world too, passed by and passed on. my wings aren't wings to fly but beat the air, just beat and beat and there are three leopards in the cool of the day under juniper in the hollow of my skull I read much in the night never go south see your shadows maybe frightened. these orange leaves and rain cast shadows on the strong strange walls where you live. and this is now. Roads speculate and minds have a thousand sordid images some sit like a cat along the bed's edge others flicker against the high low cielings and our soul is stretched across mystical skies. All my fancies are curled up tight and you're this one infinitely gentle infinitely suffering thing gathering yourelf like ancient women do in vacency with hands across a laughing mouth I dozed last night and this morning watched thrushes revealing visions of nature and the city and wondered at four and five and six o'clock like the conscience of a blackened road. evenings settle down like fog in corners of streets the showers come and go and there is coffee and human voices that throw us confusion and we linger in chambers of our own dreams. Is anything said what I really meant at all? And what are you contemplating ? Am I one like Lazarus come from the dead? Or just a dooryard and impossible to meet even halfway? There are high sentences meticulous but obtuse like I imagine mermaids might sing when the wind blows water white and black and the wild hair blown all over by the high winds. Over the land a blackbird sings and the grey sky's a goodnight and goodmorning but winter will make us warm again earth's forgetful, and these are the days. I read the fire sermon and the parliament of the bees Prothalamion by Spencer And To His Coy Mistress And walk like Tiresias where both sexes meet not exactly a longshoreman from Sappho But not entirely not. I'm the Vicar of Wakefield Or is that you? this is the song of the three daughters of the Thames The Tempest and an afternoon on a barge. There's a cauldron of holy loves all around my ears and like in Shackleton there's always one more watching and the peace that passeth our understanding. There's a hanged god and a secret garden and flowers of evil and flowers of loving And the devil in the detail And the death by water's just a saying. You're a gilded shell golden and red there's a southward drift and the peal of bells you smoothe your hair though unseen and music creeps up on the silence. unreal city wakes or lies low your hearts in the basement the weeping willow's near your bedroom window but the windows dim and sinks into stones. these are strange times and I'm little jack horner pulling out my thumb and perfect, pitch perfect like a lover's leap from the bridge of sighs. I read Matthew Mark Luke and John Got my wires cut am ready and waiting a bird in the bush but no hands free and the cat's in the well all curious and curiouser no one shot little red robin and there's a nightingale in berkely square and I've three mules for sister sarah and three bags full, three bags full. You're three peas in the pod and the owl and the pussycat cabbages and kings and the strangers in the night Bats in your belfry they're sleeping right now and the long and winding roads yellow bricks and the clock on your steeple's saying nearly 3 and its time for tea. Sleep tight mind the bugs dont bite keep your powder dry and eyes wide shut you're like breakfast at tiffinies and all's quiet on this western front yea its true all's quiet on this western front. So buy a bicycle for two and ride to the sunset See no evil nor fear it honey black cat at night pussy's delight so put the kettle on Polly, put your kettle on. You can't go much further Your talk will fall off the cliff We're poor little lambs We've lost our way, yea, we've sure lost our way. Blood on the tracks And its the beginning of the end Pay your dues I'll let you in To your own execution. I'll find you in tangled metaphysics And a Ra-Ra skirt which you'll take off. Some murderous ballads Are love stories shaking you to the core. I got trapped in the lesser world Was in for the long haul but so much corruption Tears at the world and that's a weight Pressing down pressing down. There's an edge to the twilight And the air chills and is biting I'm not going to any dogfight I've snake eyes on my prize babe. Mingus, Brubeck and Monk make wild under traffic lights turning red with blood. Come to the park we'll smoke and wear dark glasses And have voracious sex til exhausted. I'm out to lunch all the days And imagine buying up the shop displays And spraying you with gold and silver Like love's dangerous work, love's dangerous. You look in my eyes you'll see the emptiness and everything mislaid and ruined And you'll have to decide what you'll be doing Either run and hide or dive right in Either run and hide or dive right in. Going to the third person to hide Going to strap you down and double down Going to buy you ice cream from the parlour Then burn the parlour down, yea Going to burn it all down. I'm so cold and bloodless and entertain other hearts and stretched the rules and covered all the ground. I know those ways and so got dragged out and spooked I've a constant concern And am on the double like a doubt . I've a keen eye and see you under the disagreement of art And your basic tenets remain constant And my love is a perspective on dying . She's got another man another woman She's got the moon and sixpence And that leap of faith and intellect And compassion for the other side of the ranks. I'm sitting in the cheap seats And she's looking so desolate With the rich set and their gold bars So desolate with all them gold bars. This is a religious thing with a body attached And I'm the helping hand on the right side Red Hot and Blue honey Where all's peace in your valley, all's peace in your valley. Some folks complain if you talk through their shows I wouldn't mind that though I wouldn't mind if you bowled. I can be that sort of Dean Martin plowed charm. I travel through time and read Dante And Akhmatova's suicide broken sad and alone Well we've now seen better days Sitting with amber liquor and red leather seats This where life starts to slur And perpendiculars modulate And life's never felt so desperate like I'm going North to Alaska I heard someone whisper 'Please adore me' and knew It was me not spoiling for a fight but the opposite kind of nonstop. Fascination comes tip toe through the night Fascination in a blue moon or Paris A free man looking for a locked door He doesn't want keys but forgiveness The moon's a harsh mistress And have you noticed how everything's full circle You're a mystery train rolling on And why don't you strip down, strip me down. You slug it out I kiss my teeth I stand at the stairwell catching upskirts like a dirty old man And scamper home in a long coat for a hot coffee and daytime tv. You slug it out I kiss my teeth I stand at the stairwell catching upskirts like a dirty old man And scamper home in a long coat for a hot coffee and daytime tv. So arrest me And arrest the time And arrest the life that left no excuses And arrest the heart that still feels feelings before I scamper home in my long coat for a hot coffee and daytime tv. I work two sets of lyrics get bored with porn do long walks in the winter just to stay exhilarated before going home in a long coat for a hot coffee and daytime tv. best way to shut people down Is to give them separate pulpits where folks listen to what they want from where they're already sitting. Pale retreads of lost horizons And star crossed ethereal mysteries And you make sure you're like yourself And know what you're never and not. Where are the old movie themes And the bruises you pick up with strangers And the new eyes that cut and circle fresh And the days of wonder and reincarnations? Souls coming and going The black of the eye's just a naked hole Your outskirts of memory betrayed By hopes beguiling and beguiled. Where or when are we now? Who and what gets lost in transition? Some things happened once And now happens again but bleeding. Where's my lady the tramp where's my babe in arms Where's my funny valentine And Busby Berkeley and Ginger Rogers? Something got half grasped and lost Something like where or when. I feel like I'm hearing a hundred violins more destiny than carnal, like ghosts and lovers. It's November and the pound shop Is already playing Hark the Herald Angels Sing And how does it become so sad and so untrue? These bright shop lights are my only friends. My walks are ways of showing myself. you got to shrug off disappointments. You got to boost up the odds that say You're still alive and still living. So the leaves are deep on the ground And the air is cold as her cold cold heart And the afternoon's like midnight And no one wants to talk at all. I could be a faith healer and recognise the sinners and those in need And when they say you can't cheat an honest man There's a sort of miracle in that I guess. The house always wins. The streets are sad and lonely. The guitar is weeping And they've all gone under the hill. These streets are where I'm walking They're the strange reels And the banished ending And where are the rebels now? It's got so dark I can't see America And the wonder all got lost. We're like Gary Cooper facing down the clock Its High noon for love and the brave, High Noon for love and the brave. Who comes like the lone wolf All those deals on the table but nothing's really for sale Nothing's ever that real. Sentimental feelings that's all we've got And penetrating looks that crash to pieces And worlds like mavericks and formless lives Like Sinatra all aroused and stimulated. This is an age, and this is a kind of affection This is the turn of the screw and the turn of the key It's the last hotel room and the golden age between palm trees and sleaze and ambrosia. How did you make it like this? How did you find the door? Did you hold on tight or did death just cheat you? And how rootless thou art and good evening. Now you're lusty and imperious And I'm smooching and finding my way And if this is it it's the starting point And what vast eternity's here all immortalised. Stay alive and work out the answers And how are you doing? There's a loving tender feeling Right up to the end. You have a philosophical point of view dear don't you? And you're wanting all the women to give you all their womanhood and blessings. And you hold your suffering like a wife and want a head start On the road to somewhere that might end up nowhere. You're a barbarian in soft whispers and wanderings And you know what others want but not yourself always You refuse to answer every question And like to hit the bottle and tag along You're proud and aloof and a riddle in a song You've ulterior motives god knows what they are And your the centre stage and a sad mandolin You should drink me down like a glass of scotch drink me down like a good old scotch. And the stranger it gets I'm suspended in midair And I'm piggy backing to another dimension Like Elvis moving from Tupelo to Memphis Waiting for you to move across some threshold. Call it what you will but life only goes so far Before it hits the rocks and needs deliverance So leave your ruinations behind and swim Swim to the distant realm and never stop rolling.