Vast Quotes - page 53
McCain would give illegal aliens citizenship. He mocks a U.S. president's oath to protect border security, calling the vast majority of Americans who oppose amnesty "vigilantes" and "bigots." Last week, McCain, often booed, termed himself "a fellow conservative" at D.C.'s annual Conservative Political Action Conference. He is surely a foreign-policy hawk, even arguably an economic conservative. To win, though, McCain needs the GOP's much larger social/cultural constituency. How does he woo those who disbelieve, even loathe, him? Mistrusting McCain's words, many Republicans will respond only to acts: i.e. the vice presidency. Enter Mike Huckabee, coming from nowhere to take eight primaries and caucuses and embody the Middle America that frets about the mortgage, college education, a society that perverts right v. wrong.
John McCain
Completely egocentric, unable to relate, empathize or identify and consisting of a vast, pervasive, diffuse sexuality, the male is psychically passive. He hates his passivity, so he projects it onto women, defines the male as active, then sets out to prove that he is ("prove he's a Man"). His main means of attempting to prove it is screwing (Big Man with a Big Dick tearing off a Big Piece). Since he's attempting to prove an error, he must "prove" it again and again. Screwing, then, is a desperate, compulsive attempt to prove he's not passive, not a woman; but he is passive and does want to be a woman.
Valerie Solanas
But to Stern at that moment it wasn't a hand grenade at all but a no longer distant cloud high above the Temple of the Moon, a driftin memory in the desert of dim pillars and fountains and waterways, mysterious places where myrrh grew, the ruins of his youth.
Blinding light then in the mirror behind the bar, sudden death merging the stars and windstorms of his life with darkness in the failure of his seeking, bright blinding light in the night sky at last and Stern's once vast vision of a homeland for all the peoples of his heritage gone as if he had never lived, shattered as if he had never suffered, his futile devotion ended on a clear Cairo night during the uncertain campaigns of 1942 when the eternal disguise he wore to his last clandestine meeting, his face, was ripped way and thrown against a mirror in the half-light of an Arab bar, there to stare at a now immobile landscape fixed to witness his death forever.
Edward Whittemore