The New, New Improved Dialogical Saloon

October 14, 2017

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The New, New Improved Dialogical Saloon

If it was just up to me, I would not have deleted the “The New Improved Dialogical Saloon.” It would still be up. However it offended the great god Google, for whom we will all soon work, because it violated the following Google Adsense guidelines:

“As stated in our program policies, sites displaying Google ads should provide substantial and useful information to the user. Users should be able to easily navigate through the site to find what products, goods, or services are promised. Examples of misguided navigation include, but are not limited to:

  • False claims of downloadable or streaming content
  • Linking to content that does not exist
  • Redirecting users to irrelevant and/or misleading webpages
  • Text on a page unrelated to the topic and/or business model of the website.”

“You do not need to contact us if you make changes. Please be aware that if additional violations are accrued, ad serving may be disabled to the website listed above. You should immediately take time to review your pages with Google ads to ensure that they comply with our policies.”

“Additionally, please be aware that the URL above is just an example and that the same violations may exist on other pages of this website or other sites that you own. To reduce the likelihood of future warnings from us, we suggest that you review all your sites for compliance.”

If anybody has a problem with this please try to contact Google. Go ahead. Try.

Meanwhile, please feel free to continue your discussion here.




376 Responses to “The New, New Improved Dialogical Saloon”

  1. SB Apollo Says:

    Ode on Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood
    William Wordsworth – 1770-1850

    There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
    The earth, and every common sight
    To me did seem
    Apparelled in celestial light,
    The glory and the freshness of a dream.
    It is not now as it hath been of yore;—
    Turn wheresoe’er I may,
    By night or day,
    The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

    The rainbow comes and goes,
    And lovely is the rose;
    The moon doth with delight
    Look round her when the heavens are bare;
    Waters on a starry night
    Are beautiful and fair;
    The sunshine is a glorious birth;
    But yet I know, where’er I go,
    That there hath past away a glory from the earth.

    Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
    And while the young lambs bound
    As to the tabor’s sound,
    To me alone there came a thought of grief:
    A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
    And I again am strong.
    The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep,—
    No more shall grief of mine the season wrong:
    I hear the echoes through the mountains throng.
    The winds come to me from the fields of sleep,
    And all the earth is gay;
    Land and sea
    Give themselves up to jollity,
    And with the heart of May
    Doth every beast keep holiday;—
    Thou child of joy,
    Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy
    Ye blesséd Creatures, I have heard the call
    Ye to each other make; I see
    The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
    My heart is at your festival,
    My head hath its coronal,
    The fulness of your bliss, I feel—I feel it all.
    O evil day! if I were sullen
    While Earth herself is adorning
    This sweet May-morning;
    And the children are culling
    On every side
    In a thousand valleys far and wide
    Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
    And the babe leaps up on his mother’s arm:—
    I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
    —But there’s a tree, of many, one,
    A single field which I have look’d upon,
    Both of them speak of something that is gone:
    The pansy at my feet
    Doth the same tale repeat:
    Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
    Where is it now, the glory and the dream?

    Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting;
    The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star,
    Hath had elsewhere its setting
    And cometh from afar;
    Not in entire forgetfulness,
    And not in utter nakedness,
    But trailing clouds of glory do we come
    From God, who is our home:
    Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
    Shades of the prison-house begin to close
    Upon the growing Boy,
    But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,
    He sees it in his joy;
    The Youth, who daily farther from the east
    Must travel, still is Nature’s priest,
    And by the vision splendid
    Is on his way attended;
    At length the Man perceives it die away,
    And fade into the light of common day.

    Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;
    Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,
    And, even with something of a mother’s mind,
    And no unworthy aim,
    The homely nurse doth all she can
    To make her foster-child, her inmate, Man,
    Forget the glories he hath known,
    And that imperial palace whence he came.

    Behold the Child among his new-born blisses,
    A six years’ darling of a pigmy size!
    See, where ‘mid work of his own hand he lies,
    Fretted by sallies of his mother’s kisses,
    With light upon him from his father’s eyes!
    See, at his feet, some little plan or chart,
    Some fragment from his dream of human life,
    Shaped by himself with newly-learned art;
    A wedding or a festival,
    A mourning or a funeral;
    And this hath now his heart,
    And unto this he frames his song:
    Then will he fit his tongue
    To dialogues of business, love, or strife;
    But it will not be long
    Ere this be thrown aside,
    And with new joy and pride
    The little actor cons another part;
    Filling from time to time his ‘humorous stage’
    With all the Persons, down to palsied Age,
    That life brings with her in her equipage;
    As if his whole vocation
    Were endless imitation.

    Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
    Thy soul’s immensity;
    Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep
    Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind,
    That, deaf and silent, read’st the eternal deep,
    Haunted for ever by the eternal Mind,—
    Mighty Prophet! Seer blest!
    On whom those truths rest
    Which we are toiling all our lives to find,
    In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;
    Thou, over whom thy Immortality
    Broods like the day, a master o’er a slave,
    A Presence which is not to be put by;
    To whom the grave
    Is but a lonely bed, without the sense of sight
    Of day or the warm light,
    A place of thoughts where we in waiting lie;
    Thou little child, yet glorious in the might
    Of heaven-born freedom on thy being’s height,
    Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke
    The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
    Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?
    Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight,
    And custom lie upon thee with a weight
    Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!
    0 joy! that in our embers
    Is something that doth live,
    That Nature yet remembers
    What was so fugitive!
    The thought of our past years in me doth breed
    Perpetual benediction: not indeed
    For that which is most worthy to be blest,
    Delight and liberty, the simple creed
    Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest,
    With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:—
    —Not for these I raise
    The song of thanks and praise;
    But for those obstinate questionings
    Of sense and outward things,
    Fallings from us, vanishings,
    Blank misgivings of a creature
    Moving about in worlds not realized,
    High instincts, before which our mortal nature
    Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised:
    But for those first affections,
    Those shadowy recollections,
    Which, be they what they may,
    Are yet the fountain-light of all our day,
    Are yet a master-light of all our seeing;
    Uphold us—cherish—and have power to make
    Our noisy years seem moments in the being
    Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake,
    To perish never;
    Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour,
    Nor man nor boy,
    Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
    Can utterly abolish or destroy!
    Hence, in a season of calm weather
    Though inland far we be,
    Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
    Which brought us hither;
    Can in a moment travel thither—
    And see the children sport upon the shore,
    And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.

    Then, sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
    And let the young lambs bound
    As to the tabor’s sound!
    We, in thought, will join your throng,
    Ye that pipe and ye that play,
    Ye that through your hearts to-day
    Feel the gladness of the May!
    What though the radiance which was once so bright
    Be now for ever taken from my sight,
    Though nothing can bring back the hour
    Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
    We will grieve not, rather find
    Strength in what remains behind;
    In the primal sympathy
    Which having been must ever be;
    In the soothing thoughts that spring
    Out of human suffering;
    In the faith that looks through death,
    In years that bring the philosophic mind.

    And 0, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
    Forebode not any severing of our loves!
    Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
    I only have relinquish’d one delight
    To live beneath your more habitual sway;
    I love the brooks which down their channels fret
    Even more than when I tripp’d lightly as they;
    The innocent brightness of a new-born day
    Is lovely yet;
    The clouds that gather round the setting sun
    Do take a sober colouring from an eye
    That hath kept watch o’er man’s mortality;
    Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
    Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
    Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
    To me the meanest flower that blows can give
    Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

  2. Dasein Says:

    Never underestimate a Mexican, especially a fat one.

  3. Palasdin Says:

    A little boy about 12 years old is walking down the street dragging a flattened frog on a string behind him. He came up to the doorstep of ‘a house of ill repute’ and knocked on the door.

    When the Madam answered it, she saw the little boy and asked what he wanted. He said, “I want to have sex with one of the women inside. I have the money to buy it, and I’m not leaving until I get it.”

    The Madam figured, why not, so she told him to come in. Once in, she told him to pick any of the girls he liked. He asked, ‘Do any of the girls have any diseases? Of course the Madam said “No”.

    The boy said, ‘I heard all the men talking about having to get shots after making love with Amber – THAT’S the girl I want.’
    Since the little boy was so adamant and had the money to pay for it the Madam told him to go to the first room on the right.

    He headed down the hall dragging the squashed frog behind him. Ten minutes later he came back, still dragging the frog, paid the Madam, and headed out the door. The Madam stopped him and asked, ‘Why did you pick the only girl in the place with a disease, instead of one of the others?’

    He said, “Well, if you must know, tonight when I get home, my parents are going out to a restaurant to eat, leaving me at home with a baby-sitter. After they leave, my baby-sitter will have sex with me because she just happens to be very fond of cute little boys. She will then get the disease that I just caught. When Mum and Dad get back, Dad will take the baby-sitter home. On the way, he’ll give her one in the car and he’ll catch the disease. Then, when Dad gets home from the baby-sitter’s, he and Mum will go to bed and have sex, and Mum will catch it. In the morning when Dad goes to work, the Milkman will deliver the milk, have a quickie with Mum and catch the disease and HE’S the prick who ran over my FROG!”


  4. Shovelhead Says:

    Just stopped in to see what condition my condition was in….

    Smoking one up! Thunderstorm is coming. That should be interesting in my current state of mind.

    This shit makes me think of simpler times, like when I’d call a buddy on the rotary phone to get his ass over here cause I just picked up a bag.

    Smokin the night away, listening to tunes, talkin shit with yer Brothers.
    Who’s gonna make a munchies run? Get some beer too!


  5. david Says:

    To any pigs,lawyers,congressmen or especially judges who use the expression “it’s the law”, while forcing people to obey “them”, please read the following historical conversation.

    Satan as an archangel made himself completely objectionable and was finally expelled from heaven. Halfway in his descent he paused, bent his head in thought a moment and at last went back.

    “There is one favor that I would like to ask”, said he.

    “Name it”.

    “Man, I understand is about to be created. He will need laws”.

    “You his appointed adversary, charged from the dawn of eternity with hatred of his soul — you ask for the right to make his laws?”

    “Pardon; what I have to ask is that he be permitted to make them himself.”

    It was so ordered.

  6. Tooj Says:

    Hey folks, I’m sure you’re up to date with the usual political tomfoolery going on.

    Latest news is that Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is putting up a new bill to send massive aid to Brazil. It seems she heard a news report stating that three Brazilian skydivers died in a freak accident.

    She’s not entirely sure how much a brazilian is, but is absolutey certain it is a LOT.

  7. Paladin Says:

    @ BigV

    Nice piece of property you have there. Looks like one might be able to operate an LSA (light Sport Aircraft) from the property. You mention assholes to the south and East of the property. Are these real assholes or are you using that term as a generality? And as always, long may you ride.


  8. Penguin Says:

    Never been to the South, but I know what y’all are saying about old and cold weather.

    C’mon Summertime and those Northern California back mountain twisties, more or less copfreezones and tacky local watering holes in tiny “towns” (villages more like)
    Like Ono and Igo, Peanut and such spots…and the Bikes to the Bay motorcycle drags at Eureka… Which have run-whatcha-brung for free, at the end of the day.

    The cold gets deeper every year…bummer! (bettern dead tho)

  9. BigV Says:

    Shovelhead or anyone looking to be a halfback: 24.xx acres in Towns County GA for $170k or best offer. Nice views. About 6 acrews in timber.

    One asshole to your right, one asshole to the south.

    Direct access to Gumlog Rd, state right of way.

    It is my momma’s. I profit NOTHING from this. If a like minded individual to myself or organization with ideas similar to myself bought it, my momma would be thrilled(honest to god).

    Move to the Mountains Boys ! More Lakes than you can count on two hands, 19/129, Cherohala Skyway, Little Snow Bird, Big Snow Bird, Brasstown Bald, Richard Russell, Blood Mountain, 2 hours to Asheville, Atlanta, Knoxville, Chattanooga and parts inbetween. Close enough to go the city to remind you why you left that shit, far enough away to not bother with it.

    If anyone is serious, ask Rebel for my email.

    See here:

    Be a nice spot for runs, camping, or you can buy a tractor and become a country squire.

  10. Austin Says:

    @Drifter – I love the 58! Right Now the wildflowers are just starting to go off. Prices out there are coming down since SLO county changed rules for growing weed. I also like to take the road through Taft up to the 46/Lost Hills. Don’t miss the Penny Bar in McKittrick. ;) Happy Trails! ,

  11. Shovelhead Says:


    Yeah I’ll be there. Haven’t decided yet, but may set up a table. Have a ton of shovelhead parts I don’t want to haul down south.
    The older and grumpier I get, the harder it is dealing with the cold and snow.
    I’ve settled on Gulfport, FL. area, although Towns a little North look interesting in Georgia. Alabama, the Carolinas. I’ve seen Bradenton FL. Nice area too.

    Have Family in Gulfport and my Hippie wife likes the artist friendly life there.

    I of course will be seeking out the nearest Biker bar.

  12. rollinnorth Says:

    Congratulations, Shovelhead!

    I’m thinking the same way. Winters north of the 44th have worn me out.
    Be interested to hear how you find life down South.

    Will you still be around for State Line?


  13. Old & Jaded Says:

    Shovelhead – Was in St.Petes and south to Sarasota last year as I have a friend in Bradenton (may want to check that area out too). Liked St. Petes the best. Congrats on your almost retirement.

    @Paladin – …and a fee for usage – hilarious.

  14. david Says:

    For your musical enjoyment: Two Tone Sessions- Eric Gales- Voodoo Chile/Kashmir/Back in Black, 8:53 min. Jimi’s style.

    Also:Two Tone Sessions-Eric Gales-“Block The Sun” and,”On The Wings of Rock And Roll”

  15. Drifter Says:

    Good scooting in the central California area right now, with the rains and wildflowers blooming like mad. Highway 58, between Buttonwillow (west of Bake-ers feld, lol Bakersfield)and west to Santa Magarita, would be a good space scoot for the tramp that wishes to be in the boonies with mother nature going nuts. It is a very lonely highway and I dig it.

  16. Shovelhead Says:


  17. Sieg Says:

    Hey, Shovelhead, ax Rebel for my addy, got major hook-ups for ya in FLA.

  18. Sandmann Says:


    GREAT one.
    Poor George… :-)

  19. russell1946 Says:

    @ Shovelhead

    You might consider Dothan, Alabama.

    Good roads and good weather for riding to either Gulfport or St. Pete.

    I hail from east coast Florida.

  20. Johnny Rotten Says:


    you got my email
    im just over the bridge south from st.pete

  21. Paladin Says:

    @ Shovelhead;

    Ask Rebel to put you in touch with Panamaa, he lives in Florida.

    Long May You Ride,


  22. Shovelhead Says:

    Last winter for me in Maine. Retiring this summer! Heading South this Fall to Florida. Probably the St. Petersburg area. Maybe Gulfport.
    Just going to ride out my remaining years until I can’t ride any more. Tired of being cold all the time.

    Anyone from that area? any suggestions on maybe what neighborhoods to stay out of? I still like the Biker lifestyle, just won’t be flying any colors, Those day’s are over.

  23. Paladin Says:



    Hi, George. This is Richard, next door. I’ve a confession to make. I’ve been riddled with guilt for a few months and have been trying to get up the courage to tell you face-to-face. At least I’m telling you in this text. I can’t live with myself a minute longer without your knowing about this. The truth is, when you’re not around, I’ve been sharing your wife, day and night. Probably much more than you. I haven’t been getting it at home recently. I know that’s no excuse. The temptation was just too great. I can’t live with the guilt & hope you’ll accept my sincere apology and forgive me. Please suggest a fee for usage and I’ll pay you.



    George, feeling enraged and betrayed, grabbed his gun, went next door, and shot Richard dead. He returned home, shot his wife, poured himself a stiff drink and sat down on the sofa. George then looked at his phone and discovered a second text message from Richard.


    Hi, George. Richard here again. Sorry about the typo on my last text. I assume you figured it out and noticed that the darned Spell-Check had changed “wi-fi” to “wife.” Technology, huh? It’ll be the death of us all.


  24. Austin Says:

    This is an example of the wrong kind of brotherhood. I’m not man-bashing here. If you know me at all – you know how I adore men. And I haven’t always made good decisions. But FFS- Judges need to be fair and uphold law.

  25. Austin Says:

    “…there isn’t enough information in the public sphere for people to make an intelligent decision about it”

    Rebel – Thanks for going above & beyond to get information into the public sphere. Rock on Brother.

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