Speechlessness is not easily inflicted on us at the POWcityblog. To borrow from George Thorogood: 'We've seen everything, baby. Everything but the bottom of the sea.' From railyards to graveyards it takes a lot to make us stop dead, drop our Starbucks and say 'sweet sufferin' crap.' What should have been a simple supply operation this morning turned into a high body count metaphysical horror show: an image of what appears to be the Pope making out with Michael Jackson. Has there been such a noisome portent of slaughter since the battlefields of the Great War? It may not be possible to continue in the face of such a shock to the system. Imagery like this makes us want to buy (even more) gold, shotguns and dehydrated food. ...where's my generic ibuprofen?
editor's note: this post is outside our usual niche but is consistent with the theme of urban imagery
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