Kevin McFoy Dunn
@kevinmcfoydunn.bsky.social
Footnote-in-waiting (in re v.: music -- https://kevindunn.bandcamp.com/music; scribbling -- https://kevinmcfoydunn.substack.com/) and punter-grade bricoleur.
Political science
40%
History
22%
Matter of perspective, I suppose. From my vantage as an emblem-lit analyst manqué, that looks like a veritable jungle gym of Counter-Reformation iconography over which I would love to let eyes and brain clamber for a couple of days.
Does that mean "No Angel"? That putto looks a bit dissolute, IMO.
Stunning, the Grote Markt. To read "Tacos" in the context certainly delivers a frisson, gotta say. Could you tell what was up with the activity at the foot of the Brabofontein? Maintenance? A video shoot? The guy who cut off Druon Antigoon's hand straight-up deserves TikTok love, lol.
Share/Ruly/Delibate : Pubis/Regular/Sample
Wurdz, shawty.
kevinmcfoydunn.substack.com
Liminality, thy name is the ungrasped interim of now (must sound better in the original Tibetan). At this sliver riving All Saints' and All Souls' comes my cross-quarter Substack blurt: Fama's twin sackbuts wind lexicographical alarums, Elno is warned not to abet tyrannic tech, and Yijing is creepy.
Well, you are able still, because -- and I know I'm being a drag, but needs must, sez the involuntarily-retired copy editor -- the river's spelt "Elbe". xo
Golly damn -- disproportionate rage-fugue much? (Love that book, BTW -- reviewed it for a now-defunct free weekly in Atlanta when it first came out.)
ooooo bella
I must finally address the fact that the pitiable decedent highlighted here was supplanted in short order by the newer candidate for ranking MAGAt shahid, that purveyor of sociopolitical vility Kirk. Predictably, per the top post, that essay in Falangista martyrdom too ground to a sludgy halt. Next!
Unparseably monstrous. I look forward to the future in which this trashy, sub-former-Central-Asian-Soviet-satellite's-tinpot-dictator-grade annex is demolished.
In my defense: fox? Chicken? Not obvs? (In the event, maybe not so much. ¡Lo siento!)
Note to the Fox fox: sorry I in the inflatable chicken went right into the bit upon accosting you. Your vulpine mask hid face and muffled voice (& I also input/output-baffled), but I sensed alarm at my out-of-nowhere "I feel assaulted", and I appreciate your taking it (I think?) reasonably calmly.
XPian Left represent ok! (Luke xiii.34, Vulgate.)
18.x.2025: No Kings @ 33.90°N 83.38°W (+/-). L., staging at home pre-event; r., at the demo. Democratic action pneumatic in both theological and mechanical senses!
In my defense: fox? Chicken? Not obvs?
I were remiss in my duty to 17th-c. EngLit did I not note that the b'day of my fave stylist Sir Thomas Browne coincided with No Kings II. Empty your mind with this extract casually-pluck't from his Hydriotaphia, Urne-Buriall, or, A Discourse of the Sepulchrall Urnes lately found in Norfolk [1658].
Note to the Fox fox: sorry I in the inflatable chicken went right into the bit upon accosting you. Your vulpine mask hid face and muffled voice (& I also input/output-baffled), but I sensed alarm at my out-of-nowhere "I feel assaulted", and I appreciate your taking it (I think?) reasonably calmly.
XPian Left represent ok! (Luke xiii.34, Vulgate.)
Happy belated birthday, dear, dear Vanessa! Excelsior!
Oh, yeah, and: Happy Sir Thomas Browne's b'day, y'all! (Random quote from Hydriotaphia, Urne-Buriall, or, A Discourse of the Sepulchrall Urnes lately found in Norfolk [1658] appended.)
In my defense: fox? Chicken? Not obvs?
Note to the Fox fox: sorry I in the inflatable chicken went right into the bit upon accosting you. Couldn't see your face or properly hear your voice through your (our!) baffling, but sensed alarm at my out-of-nowhere "I feel assaulted", and I appreciate your taking it (I think?) reasonably calmly.
Actually, that band was from Atlanta. Which tidbit of info I offer on the privileged basis of me having supplied the Ebow guitar line meandering through the track and the jangle intro kicking it off. Cheers!
I'm reduced at this juncture in the Zusammenbruch to muttering "fucking fascists" and then moving on to the next enormity eliciting yet more muttering "fucking fascists".
Ugh -- what wretched luck. Wishing you prompt healing.
The Death of Princes
The heavens themselves blaze them forth, you know
kevinmcfoydunn.substack.com
Sol breaching the wafty brane twixt Virgin and Scales, I call to witness respecting Libra, from Marston's Iacke Drums Entertainment (1601), the (possible) Shakespeare-avatar Planet: " ... like a paire of Ballance,/Thou wayest all sauing thy selfe." Out now & free to read: my Fall Equinox Substack.
Stephen Luscombe obituary
Keyboardist and songwriter for idiosyncratic synth-pop duo Blancmange, who enjoyed UK chart success in the early 80s
www.theguardian.com
You may well have seen this already. 'Tis pity.
I've yet to find a pharmacy in Athens that can assure me they've got the new one, and there's some bullshit (on CVS's part, at least) about having to get a scrip for it. Confusion reigns in the red states, and we all know *COUGH* RFK Jr. *COUGH* why. Feel better!