Have You Ever Had A Dream That You Uh You Eh You Uhm I You Am Yeah You Could Do Anything ? :)

robert f. kennedy and pat paulson trolling each other for 2:25 minutes straight.

On the first anniversary of the assassination, Bobby donned Jack's old aviator jacket, adorned with the Presidential seal, and drove to Arlington to kneel before the eternal flame and pray at the grave. Returning home, he said to a friend[John Seigenthaler], “You know, I had a conversation with him a couple of days before it happened. He had called to wish me a happy birthday. The thing is, I can't remember what he said. I've tried and tried and I can't remember. I've searched my mind over and over.”

The Last Brother by Joe McGinniss

i refuse to turn older than 16 🍼

I deman you to do it ?

Kennedy moves from one room to another, then sits for a moment in the hall as people stream back and forth past him. He is deeply worn, but nearly a month of intensive campaigning still lies ahead — Nebraska next week, then Oregon, then South Dakota and California. He rubs his face. He has pushed himself to the limit, but he does not mention his weariness. His face is gaunt, weathered; his eyes are sunken and red. He rubs his hand over his face again, as if to tear away the exhaustion. It is not something he has sympathy with, his hand is not consoling as it drags across his face—he is simply trying to get rid of an encumbrance. He responds to questions from a reporter slowly, haltingly, trying to think; the questions seem to goad him painfully to one more effort. In the wake of his success, he admits there are great areas of loss — primarily for his family, and in his privacy. ‘I think... I think... I would make this one effort... and if it fails I would go back to my children... If you bring children into the world, you should stay with them, see them through...’ He had once thought of teaching, or of starting a new kind of project in the Mississippi Delta, or of working with the Indians, but now he doesn’t know. ‘I think about it,’ he says slowly. ‘I think about it... I’m not sure.’ The hand drags across the face again, his eyes closed. He mentions privacy. ‘It would be nice taking a walk sometime without someone taking a picture of you taking a walk...’ More people come through the door. Kennedy looks up, gets quickly to his feet, and greets them, alert again, moving.

─ Jim Stevenson

... reading is sexy ...

James Dean with his cousin Marcus Winslow, at the family farmhouse in Fairmount, Indiana, 1955

a picture of bobby's swearing-in appeared in the newspaper. in a letter from the front, jack gently condescended to his little brother for still playing schoolboy games while the real men were at war: “the folks sent me a clipping of you taking the oath. the sight of you up there, just as a boy, was really moving, particularly as a close examination showed that you had my checked london coat on. i'd like to know what the hell i'm doing out here while you go stroking around in my drape coat.... after reading dad's letter, i gathered that the cold vicious look in your eyes was due to the thought of that big blocking back from groton…. well, black robert, give those grotties hell....”

robert kennedy: his life, evan thomas