1. 1

    Bombs Over Providence - A Vision After The Sermon: Jacob Wrestling With The Junior Boys Soccer Team

  2. 2

    Bombs Over Providence - All The Good Guys Are Dead, And I'm Twisting My Moustache

  3. 3

    Bombs Over Providence - And The Award For Best Post-Coital Hug Goes To...

  4. 4

    Bombs Over Providence - Anybody Remember John Enis, Chair Of The Board Of Tourism For Bad Sex, Ont.?

  5. 5

    Bombs Over Providence - Black Friar's Union Of Thursday Night Anarchists

  6. 6

    Bombs Over Providence - Broken Records

  7. 7

    Bombs Over Providence - Bury My Eyes At 1510 King St. W.

  8. 8

    Bombs Over Providence - Class Aptitude Test Results Are In, And It's Martyr Or Matador For Everybody!

  9. 9

    Bombs Over Providence - Cobra Constant Committee Bake Sale

  10. 10

    Bombs Over Providence - Dig Them Up And Try To Reason With Them

  11. 11

    Bombs Over Providence - I've Got Your Revolution Right Here, Wise Ass

  12. 12

    Bombs Over Providence - May Cruise Missile Diplomacy Keep Us Truthful, Good, And Mild

  13. 13

    Bombs Over Providence - Pink Slip + 1:30% Resistance To Your Daughter's New Pony

  14. 14

    Bombs Over Providence - The 18th Brumaire Of Boomer Ellsworth

  15. 15

    Bombs Over Providence - The Grand Preamble (Annie Get Your Gun, Mask, Ductape And Some Matches)

  16. 16

    Bombs Over Providence - The Starving Artist Weight-Loss Program Works... To Varying Degree... Somethetimes

  17. 17

    Bombs Over Providence - Walkerton, Workfare, And The Wusses Who Watched

  18. 18

    Bombs Over Providence - What I Destroyed On My Summer Vacation

  19. 19

    Bombs Over Providence - You're Either With Us Or You're With The Satirists

  20. 20

    Bombs Over Providence - Zombie Cheerleader Slumber Party Massacre

The 18th Brumaire Of Boomer Ellsworth

Bombs Over Providence

Burn out these eyes eyes until we scream
"enough!" Such is the nature of our
struggles. Hampered by naught but our
own sight of the laddar's rungs begun
halfway up. But still we'll climb, hand over
mouth, fist over thought, despite our
numbers. Break the seal while growing
still. Once more over the top, friends!
And rising still the aesthetic of action
we've idolized. Coupled with our position
in this: a median within the din of a bleating
servitude. Low enough to feel the boots
of Rome, but high enough to cut the heel.
What good are we now? Left in transit by
a legacy of thought that acted very little
in the name of the high enough to learn,
but low enough to fight from the outside.
Cut this to the bone.
Assemble all yours. Call on the allies. This is
the arming of a nation under all signs.
Bring out the banners. Proclaim the marches.
This is our bloc of many colours.

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