James HG Redekop 🏳️‍🌈
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tzoq.bsky.social
James HG Redekop 🏳️‍🌈
@tzoq.bsky.social
160 followers 220 following 1.8K posts
Settling in on Canada's west coast. He/Him
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tzoq.bsky.social
It seemed that out of the battle I escaped Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped Through granites which Titanic wars had groined. Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned, Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred. Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared With piteous recognition in fixed eyes, Lifting distressful hands as if to bless. And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall; By his dead smile, I knew we stood in Hell. With a thousand fears that vision's face was grained; Yet no blood reached there from the upper ground, And no guns thumped, or down the flues made moan. "Strange, friend," I said, "Here is no cause to mourn." "None," said the other, "Save the undone years, The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours, Was my life also; I went hunting wild After the wildest beauty in the world, Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair, But mocks the steady running of the hour, And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here. For by my glee might many men have laughed, And of my weeping something has been left, Which must die now. I mean the truth untold, The pity of war, the pity war distilled. Now men will go content with what we spoiled. Or, discontent, boil bloody, and be spilled. They will be swift with swiftness of the tigress, None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress. Courage was mine, and I had mystery; Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery; To miss the march of this retreating world Into vain citadels that are not walled. Then, when much blood had clogged their chariot-wheels I would go up and wash them from sweet wells, Even with truths that lie too deep for taint. I would have poured my spirit without stint But not through wounds; not on the cess of war. Foreheads of men have bled where no wounds were. I am the enemy you killed, my friend. I knew you in this dark; for so you frowned Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed. I parried; but my hands were loath and cold. Let us sleep now . . ." "Strange Meeting"
November 12, 2025 at 1:00 AM
tzoq.bsky.social
One ever hangs where shelled roads part. In this war He too lost a limb, But His disciples hide apart; And now the Soldiers bear with Him. Near Golgotha strolls many a priest, And in their faces there is pride That they were flesh-marked by the Beast By whom the gentle Christ's denied. The scribes on all the people shove And bawl allegiance to the state, But they who love the greater love Lay down their life; they do not hate. Wilfred Owen "At a Calvary near the Ancre" https://sites.google.com/view/jhgr-11-11/at-calvary-near-the-ancre?authuser=0
November 12, 2025 at 12:00 AM
tzoq.bsky.social
After the blast of lightning from the east, The flourish of loud clouds, the Chariot throne, After the drums of time have rolled and ceased And from the bronze west long retreat is blown, Shall Life renew these bodies? Of a truth All death will he annul, all tears assuage? Or fill these void veins full again with youth And wash with an immortal water age? When I do ask white Age, he saith not so, — "My head hangs weighed with snow." And when I hearken to the Earth she saith My fiery heart sinks aching. It is death. Mine ancient scars shall not be glorified Nor my titanic tears the seas be dried." Wilfred Owen "The End" https://sites.google.com/view/jhgr-11-11/the-end?authuser=0
November 11, 2025 at 11:00 PM
tzoq.bsky.social
So Abram rose, and clave the wood, and went, And took the fire with him, and a knife. And as they sojourned both of them together, Isaac the first-born spake and said, My Father, Behold the preparations, fire and iron, But where the lamb for this burnt-offering? Then Abram bound the youth with belts and straps, And builded parapets and trenched there, And stretched forth the knife to slay his son. When lo! and angel called him out of heaven, Saying, Lay not thy hand upon the lad, Neither do anything to him. Behold, A ram, caught in a thicket by its horns; Offer the Ram of Pride instead of him. But the old man would not so, but slew his son, And half the seed of Europe, one by one. Wilfred Owen "The Parable of the Old Man and the Young" https://sites.google.com/view/jhgr-11-11/the-parable-of-the-old-man-and-the-young?authuser=0
November 11, 2025 at 10:01 PM
tzoq.bsky.social
Move him into the sun - Gently its touch awoke him once, At home, whispering of fields unsown. Always it woke him, even in France, Until this morning and this snow. If anything might rouse him now The kind old sun will know. Think how it wakes the seeds - Woke, once, the clays of a cold star. Are limbs, so dear-achieved, are sides, Full-nerved - still warm - too hard to stir? Was it for this the clay grew tall? -O what made fatuous sunbeams toil To break earth's sleep at all? Wilfred Owen "Futility" https://sites.google.com/view/jhgr-11-11/futility?authuser=0
November 11, 2025 at 9:02 PM
tzoq.bsky.social
Be slowly lifted up, thou long black arm, Great Gun towering towards Heaven, about to curse; Sway steep against them, and for years rehearse Huge imprecations like a blasting charm! Reach at that Arrogance which needs thy harm, And beat it down before its sins grow worse. Spend our resentment, cannon,-yea, disburse Our gold in shapes of flame, our breaths in storm. Yet, for men's sakes whom thy vast malison Must wither innocent of enmity, Be not withdrawn, dark arm, the spoilure done, Safe to the bosom of our prosperity. But when thy spell be cast complete and whole, May God curse thee, and cut thee from our soul! Wilfred Owen "Sonnet On Seeing a Piece of our Heavy Artillery Brought into Action" https://sites.google.com/view/jhgr-11-11/sonnet-on-seeing-a-piece-of-our-heavy-artillery-brought-into-action?authuser=0
November 11, 2025 at 8:02 PM
tzoq.bsky.social
Out there, we've walked quite friendly up to Death: Sat down and eaten with him, cool and bland,- Pardoned his spilling mess-tins in our hand. We've sniffed the green thick odour of his breath,- Our eyes wept, but our courage didn't writhe. He's spat at us with bullets and he's coughed Shrapnel. We chorused when he sang aloft; We whistled while he shaved us with his scythe. Oh, Death was never enemy of ours! We laughed at him, we leagued with him, old chum. No soldier's paid to kick against his powers. We laughed, knowing that better men would come, And greater wars; when each proud fighter brags He wars on Death, for Life; not men, for flags. Wilfred Owen "The Next War" https://sites.google.com/view/jhgr-11-11/the-next-war?authuser=0
November 11, 2025 at 7:03 PM
tzoq.bsky.social
Bugles sang, saddening the evening air; And bugles answered, sorrowful to hear. Voices of boys were by the river-side. Sleep mothered them; and left the twilight sad. The shadow of the morrow weighed on men. Voices of old despondency resigned, Bowed by the shadow of the morrow, slept. ( ) dying tone Of receding voices that will not return. The wailing of the high far-travelling shells And the deep cursing of the provoking ( ) The monstrous anger of our taciturn guns. The majesty of the insults of their mouths. Wilfred Owen "But I Was Looking At The Permanent Stars" https://sites.google.com/view/jhgr-11-11/but-i-was-looking-at-the-permanent-stars?authuser=0
November 11, 2025 at 6:01 PM
tzoq.bsky.social
What passing bells for these who die as cattle? Only the monstrous anger of the guns. Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle Can patter out their hasty orisons No mockeries for them from prayers or bells, Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, -- The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells; And bugles calling for them from sad shires. What candles may be held to speed them at all? Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes. The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall; Their flowers the tenderness of silent minds, And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds. Wilfred Owen "Anthem for Doomed Youth" https://sites.google.com/view/jhgr-11-11/anthem-for-doomed-youth?authuser=0
November 11, 2025 at 5:03 PM
tzoq.bsky.social
[Pogo, Churchy, and Porkypine are in a punt, looking pensive] Porkypine: Y'know, it seems to me this is all backwards... We, ever'body, ought to keep our big mouths shut all the whole year long so's we'd have time to think of two minutes' worth of somethin' to say on the eleventh day of November. Pogo, 1953/11/11
November 11, 2025 at 4:01 PM
tzoq.bsky.social
I'm also not a fan of the term, especially given my fondness for the old BBC radio comedy, "The Goon Show", featuring Peter Sellers, Spike Milligna (the well-known typing error), and Harry Secombe.
The Goons in the BBC Studio. Harry steers the Great BBC Television Camera, while Peter defends himself against the massive power of Harry's grand tenor. Spike, meanwhile, checks to see if the lens of the Great BBC Television Camera is properly tuned -- it's frightfully difficult to get it right, since you can't get the wood, you know.
November 10, 2025 at 5:36 PM
tzoq.bsky.social
xkcd.com/977/
See https://xkcd.com/977/
August 22, 2025 at 6:19 AM
tzoq.bsky.social
Reminds me of this Shortpacked strip:
www.shortpacked.com/comic/false-...
"Welcome to the background radiation of my life"
July 19, 2025 at 11:57 PM
tzoq.bsky.social
If you see this, quote with a robot that isn't from "Star Wars", "Star Trek", "Doctor Who", or "Transformers".
The last words of Dominator Bot 13, aka Beep Boop, in the Wander Over Yonder episode "The Bot": "I Am Beep Boop"
July 6, 2025 at 6:47 AM
tzoq.bsky.social
Gamers' supreme logic: There are - Two sexes: male and political - Two sexualities: straight and political - Two races: white and political
July 6, 2025 at 12:52 AM
tzoq.bsky.social
My father's Kaypro II portable computer:
A Kaypro II computer. A steel box containing an 8" green phosphor display and two 5 1/2" floppy drives. The front of the box, which covers the front for transportation, detaches and contains the keyboard. The whole thing is about the size, and twice the weight, of a sewing machine.
June 10, 2025 at 7:07 PM
tzoq.bsky.social
Ever since I came out to the world at large I 2016, I've worn three pins everywhere: Pride, Bi Pride, and this bilociraptor by NeroticSphynx on Etsy. (www.etsy.com/ca/listing/6...)
A pink, blue, and purple feathered velociraptor: a bilociraptor.
June 7, 2025 at 2:02 AM
tzoq.bsky.social
I like @lartist.bsky.social's version of that joke:
A cartoon of a beaver slapping Trump while yelling "Keep my country's name outta your mouth!", by Lar deSouza
May 15, 2025 at 12:18 AM
tzoq.bsky.social
Don't take life so serious, son... It ain't no how permanent.
May 10, 2025 at 4:07 AM
tzoq.bsky.social
If you don't click through to the thread: Jordan has put together this excellent image. I may have to make it up as a sticker for my laptop...
A simple black-on-red stencil image of Max Eisenhardt, aka Mageno, the Master of Magnetism, with the caption "Magneto was right".
April 17, 2025 at 9:24 PM
tzoq.bsky.social
Obligatory Preacher ref:
Why is it the greatest champions of the white race always turn out to be the worst examples of it? You! Where the fuck is your chin?
April 13, 2025 at 3:25 PM
tzoq.bsky.social
Remember how outraged Republicans were by what happened with Elian Gonzalez?

Their current policies are that, times 20 million, and without any limitations like warrants.
A Federal Border Patrol agent grabbing Elian Gonzalez at gunpoint.
April 13, 2025 at 2:11 PM
tzoq.bsky.social
Age yourself with a movie you saw in theaters
Punch it, Chewie!
February 24, 2025 at 6:15 AM
tzoq.bsky.social
February 20, 2025 at 2:45 AM
tzoq.bsky.social
That great Christian Virtue of "Absolute Terror".
The "Absolute Terror Field" frame from the opening credits of Neon Genesis Evangelion.
February 18, 2025 at 8:16 PM