A quotation from Mark Twain

Mark Twain (1835-1910) American writer [pseud. of Samuel Clemens]
Interview (1889) by Rudyard Kipling, Elmira, New York, From Sea to Sea, Part 2, ch. 37 “An Interview with Mark Twain” (1899)

More about this quote: wist.info/twain-mark/3960/

#quote #quotes #quotation #qotd #marktwain #distortion #facts #information #invention #lying #mathematics #misrepresentation #perspective #reality #slant #spin #storytelling #truth #writing

We Are Helpless to Stop Mass Shootings—and the Right’s Lies About Them

Republicans are claiming that one of the victims of the Brown University shooting was targeted because of her politics. There’s no evidence of that. And yet, it has become a dominant narrative online.

https://newrepublic.com/article/204430/brown-university-ella-cook-shooting-republican-lies

#Brown #Republicans #spin #propaganda #MAGA #press

8neun - Spin (Original Mix)

https://tube.wtmo.cloud/w/31D1AHBUQAxoAJnsBsC3oA

1598: Spin

Author(s): Scott Douglas Jacobsen

Publication (Outlet/Website): Medium (Personal)

Publication Date (yyyy/mm/dd): 2025/11/24

Spin.

Off line, and wait.

Online, or graze.

“Bach for people who don’t really like Bach.”

Watchon and unweight.

Tiltrollrr, stolen ship side,

Runrumming, Californingaling,

Stateswide to Confederanada,

Upzees and downaas,

International at ease nationalitease, and.

Sunk to Floort Langley, you seespin?

A crisis.

A Midas,

I.

A golden bridge,

to jump,

Three faced,

Zoo front,

and see the bridge,

Miss the sea,

Lose a nailspin.

It’s all in the river.

A way. A lone. A last.

Althing. Awrong. Afrazorblade.

Cutspin.

One water.

We, the disunited together.

I remember.

Eyes closed, and man felted.

Men felled, by fallen men.

Rusted, rancid, ranked, so filed.

Cobb’s Arm, and dill do,

Because the old man dildidn’t,

At least for some time,

Sorrow from being in yesterday’s morrow, sans broken hearted —

Or was it cancer? —

Deathcut

— And he?

Unknown —

Tothechase, spin.

A finished book undone to incompletion.

Historical pickle, all along the Fraser.

Bridge by Trin,

All’s willed that didn’t end, yet.

This year, Yuletide seaspin.

Far along Lee’s is twice lease,

Once fleased, two stories,

One fire.

No time, zero might.

The ship’s center, fire;

1,948 reasons the ship’s asucker,

Not a war, “silly Billy,” but a flood.

Un deux water, and my fire still burns.

Or was it 1,827 reasons?

A dishwater here,

A saltwater there.

A burrito in the round,

A bruschetta on the crust.

A beer toasted mopside.

Spinrewatt,

What’s when, when when’s now then, and the future’s been passed,

and where’s where where here, and there, and everywhere summate self-similarly?

Oh Canadas, asunder in Summer,

Ocean to ocean, fire by day, photon echoes by night.

A tendernest.

A ten her lost,

Or more,

Nowspin.

I remember all.

And there cons on tour,

The contours through grandma’s BS.

A howdy Romanian Chișinău,

and a tall Kyiv;

Fire-tears salted by Sun.

Tricky Limey to Genes,

Ashen Terrs Tabis said Sam you am, a “real man,”

El ign, yourself with Greece,

“I can’t do this.”

La car no vale, veil? Known.

Morgoth’s alter ego,

MyLAN slow in stone, Starbucks, and polizei,

Lions on safari, by stone and cobble.

Nyaan bread, quarter onion, and a Turkish espresso.

Sir, a One a China is unwell in a-relations, eh.

And others push the cart out the door, a gift.

Thenspin.

I remember all with horrible eyes.

Do you remember the owl?

Hollow-site-buy-light.

Garden-trite-my-wight.

I dug, dig, Doug,

You lass, alas, -las,

I am;

There four:

I, thou, we, it; see?

Spin.

Photo by Scott Jacobsen on Unsplash

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#poem #politicalSatire #satire #socialCommentary #spin