Tuesday with questions

I am coming to terms with the possibility that Trump's so-called "luck" (aka fix) may not run out. As the dim bulb son of a pimp he was born with a trust fund for a diaper and grew up to become a money laundering racketeer somewhat centrally located in the international web of sleaze-bag politicians, two-bit dictators, crooked banks, hired killers, media whores, spineless sycophants, fascists, racists, professional criminals, conniving psychopaths, zealots, morons, and reckless fucktards of every persuasion, and corporate-protected billionaires dedicated to plundering the planet until the last possible moment, and all looking for a mound to fly their flag. 

This asshole may just ride his bloody rainbow straight to the grave but I comfort myself with the idea that his spawn will not be so lucky. Don Jr? Jarad and Ivanka? Eric? Lara? Barron and Ivanka? Who are they as the eco-system collapses? They are baggage. Yesterday's news. Leeches. Big Don dies and who gives a fuck about the "Trump brand"? Really, who gives a fuck about the "Trump brand" now? 

What happens when their criminal network falters, as countries increasingly struggle with economic uncertainty, increasing numbers of climate refugees, as sea surge increases, as drought, plagues, and wildfires become more common and intense? What will they do? Will they still be flying around the globe on the American taxpayers dollar like they are now, cutting lucrative deals for the Trump Organization?

What will any of us do?

ARG!

View from the screen porch

posted from Bloggeroid

Arg! The guy next door has been vacuuming his vehicle for going on two hours now. He should know better. He's from California. Hey, buddy! News flash! You will never, ever get rid of all the sand. Get used to it. God! Oh, and guess what? The minute you get in the car.... sand. And don't forget your sand trap kids. And the dog? You guessed it. Sand, sand and more sand. WTF?!

The Ballad of Cliven Bundy

Cliven Bundy. This guy is an embarrassment to the great state of Nevada. I live in Nevada and, contrary to what FOX News would you believe, we are not all racist idiot squatter hicks like Cliven.

The Colbert Report
Get More: Colbert Report Full Episodes,The Colbert Report on Facebook,Video Archive

We've spent a lot of time in the Nevada interior where guys like Bundy "run" their cattle. Trust me. It's animal abuse to abandon them to the desert. In their effort to survive in this harsh environment, the poor cows chew vital, shade-giving willows to the ground turning our precious few rivers into stinking fields of shit and muck. Boneheads like Bundy joke about how this threatens already endangered species. As far as I'm concerned, the sooner Bundy and his dim-wit brethren die off, the better.

Sam Bacile's gift to the world

TRIPOLI, Libya, Sept. 11, 2012 -- The U.S. ambassador to Libya and three other Americans were killed in an attack on the U.S. consulate in Benghazi by protesters angry over a film that ridiculed Islam's Prophet Muhammad.

Hate monger Sam Bacile, a 56-year-old California real estate developer who identifies himself as an Israeli Jew and who said he produced, directed and wrote the two-hour film, "Innocence of Muslims," said he had not anticipated such a furious reaction. This cowardly bastard is now "in hiding" while others pay for his little exposé with their lives.
 

***

Update: Just for the record, as searches on the subject direct people to this post, "Sam Bacile" is one of the many aliases for Nakoula Basseley Nakoula a convicted felon from Cerritos, California. Nakoula and Joseph Nassralla Abdelmasih, the president of the Duarte-based charity Media for Christ, emerged Thursday as forces behind "Innocence of Muslims", the low-budget film which incited violence in recent days across the Arab world.

Irish President Michael D Higgins gives right wing DJ a good old fashioned country ass-whooping

M. Lee forwarded me this link from Boing Boing. It's pure pleasure hearing Ireland's President Michael D. Higgins lay into right wing DJ Michael Graham.



I fucking love this guy!

Hemp Expo

I snapped this photo the other day from the bike trail near Central Point. Good old Oregon! In case you're wondering, I'm for legalizing all drugs. Legalize, tax and regulate.

Good old Oregon. Always in the forefront.

It's not a moral issue although people who are unrealistic and/or uninformed and/or proud and/or churchy busybodies and/or flat out stupid still, against all evidence to the contrary, insist on thinking so. Drug use is not going away. Prohibition just does not work. Never has. Never will! It makes matters worse. Ask any prison guard. Corrupt governments (insert gov. of choice here), cartels, mafias, drug dealers and street gangs of every size and description FUCKING LOVE prohibition because guarantees astronomical profits. So, happy expo!

Counting on autopay

I hassled most of the morning sorting out my utility bills. Most are autopay but my records were in the rears. That was bad enough, then there's the Gardnerville trash bill. The city of G'ville doesn't trust autopay. Way too fandangled for them. Customers have to use the most arcane system known to humankind .... memory. Yes. Yes. I have a reminder on my phone but I didn't have cell service in London or Paris so I forgot I even brought the damn thing, the battery died and my reminder along with it.

But before we left, remembering I have a horrible memory, I paid the trash bill in advance. But I forgot that, didn't I? So then I paid it again at the end of June. It's only due every three months but I forgot that too, so then I had credit. But  I didn't realize it. So, this morning, not having an amount to go by, I paid the bill again and added extra for good measure. Then, well then I panicked even further, thought I'd paid the wrong entity, and called the office.

Good ol' Marie answered. She and I have talked many times since the idiots down at city hall nixed autopay. I am now paid up into next year. I hope I remember that. And btw, Marie is always very nice, friendly, helpful...in case any of you retrograde nincompoops are reading this.

So M. Lee sent me this happy little video this morning which I would like to dedicate to Marie.

One down, now what about Murdoch and Ailes?

Just read this morning that immediately after the FBI announced an inquiry into allegation that victims of the 9/11 attacks had their phones hacked by reporters at News of The World, Rebekah Brooks, chief executive at Rupert Murdoch's News International, resigned her position.  Good, fine for a start but the bitch should be in jail.

But even that would not enough. The only way to slay this dragon is to cut off its head. If Rupert, Roger and James don't go to jail then, in spite of all the underlings who fall (are pushed) onto their swords and all the mea culpas of lesser underlings­, the Disinforma­tion Monster/Ki­ng Maker machine they have spawned will continue insinuating itself ever deeper into the heart of global media, government­s and society at large.

"Robust Discourse"

I used to wonder how the rising tide of hatred in Germany went unnoticed by its citizens, the ordinary people, but now I understand. It didn't. They embraced it in the name of "robust discourse". They felt empowered by it. Bigger than life. "Safer".

US Representative Gabrielle Giffords warning
Sarah Palin "there will be consequences to cross-hairs map."

OTOH, if regular folks don't get that so many people tittering and winking about taking up arms doesn't effect crazies, I fear for us all the more. But our problem is not the crazy, isolated ones. Our problem is that supposedly sane public figures boast about using a "second amendment solution" and "gettin' 'er done". We all know what that means. Shoot to kill. As my NRA instructor friend once told me, you NEVER (emphasis hers) point a gun at anyone you don't intend to kill. Violence as "The Solution" is in the air just like it was in Germany. Don't think so? God help us.

How ironic that Representative Giffords was shot by a gun wielding madman. Welcome to the NRA's America. The NRA buys legislation that guarantees its members huge, ever increasing profits from gun sales. Conservative bastions like Arizona are model NRA communities. Everyone who wants one has a gun under their jacket or in their purse. Any crazy can walk in off the street and buy a gun as easily as buying a bottle of beer, hell . . . easier. A thirteen year-old kid can walk in alone, buy a gun, then walk out and shoot somebody with it, even an armed citizen carrying a concealed weapon for protection. It's the bullet you don't hear that gets you. Gun stores sell truck loads of guns to anyone with the cash, no questions asked. In Arizona it is even illegal to keep records of purchase. Perpetual war. It's the perfect loop. We're all being played.

Rant revisited

Cartoon by Gary Larson


Last week I went on a rant about the old saying, "write about what you know", blasting people who cling to the idea as though it were their salvation, stray and be lost forevah. Anyway, once again I overdid it because I did not give much of a nod to the times when sticking to what you know results in smoking hot writing so I'm back, hashing it out. It's what we do out here along the language barrier, hash things out. And I don't expect this will be the end of it either but then ending it is not the point, is it?

The point is, can I say that? The point is... I doubt anyone who has given it half a thought believes that subject is any more than a place to start. Otherwise, why bother? It's what you do with it that matters, and more importantly, what you let it do to you, where you let it take you that makes the difference.

And not to belabor the point but, on the flip side, those of us who think that rules are made to be broken need to keep in mind that there are no guarantees breaking them will automatically lead to extraordinary writing.

But back to the thing about sticking to what you know...

Here's a guy who has put it together. He writes about what he knows and kicks ass. He is a teacher/performance poet who bills himself as the man who "wants to create one thousand new teachers". I found his video at a Reno Spoken Views site but I don't know if he ever read here in Reno. My friend, if you haven't heard Taylor Mali before, you are in for a treat...

Bird eat bird

Today is Haloscan's big deadline. Either start paying for their service or get dumped. Screw them. I have been wanting to switch back to the Blogger commenting system for years but, oh no, Haloscan didn't offer that option. Undoubtedly, part of plumping up the user base in hopes of getting acquired and/or eventually discontinuing the free service. Yes, I could have reverted to Blogger's default widget template at any time thereby (probably) deleting them in the process but didn't want to make work for myself so good. Delete me. Adiós assholes.

And while I am on the subject of good sites gone bad, WTF Technorati? Seems Corporate also decided to castrate this once saavy interconnected site and turn it into a top-down-one-way-maze leading to the inevitable craphole advertisement. Fuck you too, Technorati.

Okay then.

And while I am on the subject of predator and prey, a small hawk recently claimed the Bird Park as his personal hunting ground. He is eating the little birds and leaving disturbing feather piles in and under bushes and trailing across the yard in tell tale testimony to successful captures. Just yesterday he swooped by my window after some poor fellow who probably did not get away. The Bird Park is on the brink of becoming yet another Nevada ghost town. The magpies still come about 7 am but they just grab their peanuts and go and though, at the moment, the little birds are braving death for a quick breakfast, they don't stay long. I really miss watching them throughout the day. Now, more often than not, I just look out at the fence and ugly roof line of the neighbor's horrible house. No movement, no life just another dead suburban moonscape. While I really resent corporations who suck the life out of things, I don't blame the hawk. He is not obsessed by profit and control but, between him and the fat neighborhood cats who saunter by after breakfast to play lion, there is not much joy in the Park. It's sad. I'm wondering if the magpies might chase the hawk away or at least challenge his hold on the place. They'd hang around if I feed them more. They scream at the cats. Of course, they also eat finches. It is a bird eat bird world.

The pigeons don't bother anybody but the neighbor on the other side of the fence but he died last month so that's something anyway. His widow doesn't give a crap about the outdoors. And the quail keep to themselves and are very fun to watch. They too are plagued by hunters, mostly the babies, but that's in the spring. Talk about sad. I get instantly attached to the tiny fluff ball babies following their parents around like a little train winding around curves after the engine. Last year the hunters gobbled them up like popcorn. What are ya gonna do? We are all food for somebody no matter how I wish it were NIMBY.

Thinking into midnight

Eye over Costa Rica

What happens when things change, when a part of you, or your life, breaks off, slips away? I don't mean the big things that rearrange the world into Before and After. I mean the little things that quietly remind us of where we are, where we have been, that make us unique to one another. Time changes or deepens those things in it's course but what happens if you do it to yourself, out of sequence, and you need to talk about it with someone and you realize that, other than family, and thank the gods for them, you have spent a lifetime parsing out bits of yourself, that you never told anyone the whole story, that you haven't allowed friendships to flourish, that you have lots of acquaintances but, when you need someone to talk to, there is no one you are willing to call because you'd have to catch them up first, or you'd have to leave parts out, or you just don't call because, well, really it isn't that bad yet, is it? What do you do? Wait it out? This too shall pass? What the hell is the matter with me?

I have friends who would get mad, or worse, hurt if they read this. What could I say to them? Oh, I didn't mean you, or feelings aren't facts, or I just needed to vent? I should have called you. That's all true so what is true? I'm not alone. I have a wonderful family. I know I'm wallowing. I know everything but how to get through this gracefully.

Here's a couple of thoughts

It seems that most biological mechanisms of action show that life involves far-from-equilibrium conditions beyond the stability of the threshold of the thermodynamic branch. It is therefore very tempting to suggest that the origin of life may be related to successive instabilities somewhat analogous to the successive bifurcations that have lead to a state of matter of increasing coherence. — Ilya Prigogine

Progress, then, is a property of the evolution of life as a whole by almost any conceivable intuitive standard.... Let us not pretend to deny in our philosophy what we know in our hearts to be true. — Edward O. Wilson

Order of the morning

Drawing by Rachel Hoffman


Just after dawn, a squadron of magpies shoot up from the eastern sector of the sky, clear the stern peak of Dick's house, wings out in stunning formation and descend into the Bird Park, a black and white flash swirl touch down running breakfast grab, then are gone again in minutes. I like to think they wake up with the Bird Park on their minds, that it is first in the order of the morning. A bit later, two magpie return for seconds. I suspect they are the original 7 o'clock magpie and her friend. Generally, after the mob leaves, I tuck a few extra goodies in strategic out of the way places. They know where to look. But that's it. You may remember my neighbor Dwayne said he saw magpies eating quail babies. He ought to know. His giant, weeping Indian willow houses families. Must protect the babies so I had to revoke the magpie/crow all day pass. It's morning peanuts then they gotta go.

Soon after they leave, the starlings arrive. Then the pigeons. Then the sparrows and finches. The mild-mannered, yellow-breasted sparrows hit the yellow thistle seed sack in Quail Town over by Old Man Hills. They can pack a sack 15 deep without ruffling a feather. Share and share alike. However, fights are always breaking out among the finches in the main sector. They go for the sunflower seeds and, although there's plenty for all, constantly disagree over who eats where. They even argue standing knee deep in the very cool seed trough hanging from the fence. Trough. It's a trough of seeds. No one guy can cover the whole thing still they stop eating to run each other off.

There are the individual finches who come at off times to nibble and gaze over the park like genteel patron frequenting sidewalk cafes in the Champs Elysées afternoon. They are among my favorites and remind me of the little Buddha Bird who came here for a couple of summers. Just watching them, I feel peaceful. They enjoy the place as it's meant to be, a time out from hard scrabble, a haven of food and water, peace and quiet. Of course, even here there are predators but that's the irony of eden, isn't it? The occasional cat does appear, mainly Dwayne's drinking buddy, Clarence the Bastard, who is far too feeble to do more than reminisce. And the hawk. There is a hawk although, for the most part, he is stealth and, but for the strike, unobtrusive. Plus, he focuses mainly on Dwayne's.

Finally, last to arrival, the quail. They start the day at Dwayne's but hop up then down the fence later in the morning. They prefer almost anything to flying. They come after things are rolling, after the finch and sparrows have littered the ground with sunflower seed crumbs. Recently, at the urging of M. Lee, I started putting chick scratch out for the quail, in secret places of course, mainly Old Man Hills and under the lilac bushes, one of their favorite haunts in summer. I don't want the pigeons catching on so it has to be on the downlow. Don't get me wrong. I still love the pigeons. Did I already mention that they are members of the dove family? In good standing. Birds of peace. But...well, they are kind of huge in this small neighborhood and, not everyone shares my enlightened view, so nothing special for them although the little birds spill enough for everybody. And the pigeons dearly love cold tubbing so I make sure that there is water in the baths.

I'm trying out a tasty peanut replacement for the magpies, bite size dog treats. I'm running out of peanuts, thanks to the greedy asshole Stewart Parnell. His cue, Charlie the Town Crier showed up. The loudmouth. First crow of the winter. I'd know him anywhere, cigar dangling from his beak, wearing the Unrestricted Press Pass I immediately regretted a day after issuing it. He had plenty to say about Parnell, none of it good. Ever hear a crow swear? Oh and this year, a pair of robins joined us, probably down from Tahoe. I love robins. Two. Seems robins, once the unflappable auguries of spring, are also suffering under the boot of human sprawl and growing scarce so I'm delighted they are here.


But about the peanuts. Since the greedy idiot criminal asshole Stewart Parnell, president of Peanut Corp., and his morally bankrupt idiot drone plant manager, Sammy Lightsey, choose profit over honor and integrity, and ordered their salmonella infected nuts, "turned loose" on America, I can't find whole peanuts at a decent price anywhere! These unscrupulous dingbats, at the urging of company executives, even begged the USDA for permission to continue shipping peanuts after salmonella was discovered. People and animals died and they want "business as usual?" Now, my supply of safe peanuts for the magpies is dangerously low. In fact, it is very nearly gone. WTF, Stewart!?! I hate that guy. Money is NOT the bottom line, Stewaaaaart. And I can't find any my peanut butter Kashi TLC bars anywhere. WTdoubleF!?

Anyway, top o' the mornin or afternoon or whatever time of day it is to ya.


Stewart Parnell Sammy Lightsey Peanut Corp. salmonella outbreak

Nigerian police detain goat

"Suspect"
We are still living in the fucking dark ages.This kind of shit makes me sick. It's not quaint or funny. It's pathetic. And it's dangerous. I put witchcraft, evangelical religion, sexism, speciesism, conspicuous consumption, and other things, all on the same lunatic continuum...but no time now. Gotta go.

Police parade goat as robbery suspect

The goat "suspect" is being detained over an alleged attempt to snatch a Mazda car. The mysterious goat, according to the Police Public Relations Officer, Mr. Tunde Mohammed, while briefing bewildered journalists at the Force headquarters, is an armed robber who attempted to snatch the said car, Wednesday night, and later transformed into the goat in a bid to escape arrest.

He explained that men of a vigilance group in Anifowose Ipata/Oloje areas of the state capital had chased two armed robbery suspects who wanted to demobilise the Mazda car with the intention of stealing it, and

"while one of them escaped, the other was about to be apprehended by the team when he turned his back on the wall and turned to this goat. They quickly grabbed the goat and here it is.’’ Mohammed said.

More at Vanguard Online

A "Vigilance Group". Right. A mob of idiots. Leave the poor goat alone.

Hand out

Mary Mungummory waits for her daily hand out at the kitchen door while inside Paloma the dog takes advantage of the distraction to search for scraps on the floor. But, in spite of this apparently homey scene at Monty's Surf Camp, Jiquilillo beach is no animal haven. There, as elsewhere in Centroamerica (and the world) injured, sick, starving, often homeless animals are not only systematically neglected, they are abused. As for the precocious Ms. Mungummory, I have no doubt that one day soon it will be her body roasting on the flame.

It is a bother to notice them. And it is an even bigger bother to actually do something to help one of them. Plus, everything excuses our indifference... poverty, religion, tradition... an indifference that is enshrined in the slag of specieism. But nothing makes it right.

Bus to Tikal

Antigua, Guatemala
This evening we leave for Tikal which is north along the Beliz border in the Petén Basin. The bus leaves from Guatemala City at 10 pm. It's an 8 hour trip to the Island of Flores, jumping off place for the area. Can't say I'm looking forward to that but that is less than half the time it took going one way to Nicaragua so no problema. I could do it standing on my head. And this time I bought Dramamine. We're traveling on Auto Bus de Norte. It's considered a "luxury line", this in comparison to travel by chicken bus. I don't expect it to be luxurious, any more than the King Quality bus from hell, but "luxury" buses are safer in general and that is an issue.

When we hiked Cerro Negro in Nicaragua our guide, an American kid from LA, told us that the previous week he'd said good-bye to a friend of his, a young Dutch fellow and fellow volunteer at Quetzal Trekkers, who left for Guatemala on a chicken bus. Unfortunately for everyone involved, a gang of drug dealers hijacked the bus when it got to Guatemala, killed all 21 people on board, including his friend, beheaded one of the victims, drove the bus in a rival gang's territory and torched it. Chalk up another tragedy to the bullshit US "War on Drugs". Prohibition does not work. We should have learned that in the 20's during the alcohol prohibition. It's not a moral issue. It's the goddamn Bottom Line. Astronomical profit. How else are these gang members going to make millions? Not selling jewelery to the tourists. All drug prohibition does is feed the mafia and leave heartbreaking wreckage in its wake. Ok.

Enjoy your day. Hasta luego.

Back it up

Still reeling from losing so many files yesterday. After a night's sleep, I remember more clearly just what got sucked into the Big Black Hole in the middle of cyberspace. Every time this happens I die a little inside. And whatwhatwhat have I learned this time?

Hmmmmmmm..........?

BACK IT UP, asshole. On a regular basis. Oh and... check the back up, honey.

My big mistake rescuing files from the crashed hard drive? Didn't check to make sure files transferred properly. Lovely. I can blame microsoft. Their crappy "copy" feature, after all. But that's useless. So. Have I learned this time? Back_it_up.

Now will I do what I tell other people to do? Who's sorry now? Oh goodie. I get to practice detachment and renewal. Pruning is good for the soul.

Shit.

From here to oblivion

Train tunnel in central Nevada
from a drive-through we did a few years ago


When I open the door to the Bird Park, birds scatter leaving the place instantly empty. Often the same thing happens when I sit down to the keyboard to commit a few thoughts to the page. Poof. I enter Oblivion.

So it was this morning. Usually about daybreak, aftereffects from the Midnight Special ... vivid, sometimes coherent, immediate thoughts and impressions ... run through my mind in a torrent of images or words like a dictation, a movie, or a train. Today it was in the form of an essay on salvation but now, sitting here with the fingers of my left hand resting lightly on asdf and the fingers of my right hand gently touching ;lkj, the words have vanished into the Tunnel of Oblivion. I know I'm an opinionated ass but I have to wrestle it out with the demon of the blank page somehow so I jotted down the drift of what was on this morning's train.

Admittedly, the idea of salvation has a tawdry "something for nothing" appeal, change without having to work for it. Just ask. The_Savior picks up the tab and, abracadabra, you are sin-free, holding a one-way ticket to heaven in your sweaty little hand. All Believers do to activate their Get Out of Hell card is agree to be mindless, obedient sheep or, for the more aggressive, "Soldiers for the Lord". Easy-peasy. Self-examination, aside from an appropriate level of guilt, is discouraged. It betrays a lack of faith.

No wonder fundamentalism is the religion of choice for politicians worldwide. Like awareness, personal accountability is unnecessary, in fact, subversive. After all, wouldn't want Believers empowering themselves. What would happen to the flock? For the same reason, salvationists despise logic and reasoning. Furthermore, religion does not require followers to be good. It requires they be good Christians, good Muslims, good Jews or good whatevers. This over compassion because, by nature, acts of compassion are promiscuous, anarchical, amoral. God forbid! They transcend religious authority.

Otherwise, after a week of unseasonably hot weather, the morning wind carried snowflakes and rain. Oh, and the Huffpo ban against me is lifted. I'm not sure what happened. I did write them a couple of letters about how I respect and observe their comments policy. I had to do that much. I was, after all, innocent. Never got a reply but yesterday I just happened to log on and found that I could post again. But now I don't care so much and all the better. I'd like to think I have better things to do than fire off comments on some damn website but boy do I get hooked. But I like the photos and headlines. It's an upscale news and gossip rag but, really, the content isn't updated that often but I'm glad to be back. Anyway, for all that it matters, I might as well be scrawling my opinions out in long hand and taping them to the window for the crows to read or hell, even posting them here.

Before I close, I have to say I am really disgusted by my neighbors. They have a nice, fenced grassy backyard but every day they lock their sweet little dog Star up in a 4x4 cage with a concrete floor, plastic roof, a bowl of water and a barrel she is supposed to crawl up into if she wants a bed. She NEVER uses it. I realize she's got it better than most animals in the world but still it's very sad because she lays on that cold, hard floor all day and cries to herself. Too bad if they don't want to pick up poop from the lawn, or whatever their damn excuse is. Her owners are so fat they are oblivious to that fact that, unless your bones are covered by layers of blubber like theirs are, lying around on concrete all day hurts!


Dogs need to ride

Just sayin'

Just noticed I have a clump of dirt stuck to one knee and two long blades of grass stuck to the other. Excuse me a second. There. I've been out in the garden pruning stuff. Didn't mean to but I ruined a nice, moist green forest a bunch of potato bugs were enjoying this morning. I hate it when I do that. I like to think of myself as a good guy but to the potato bugs I was a really shitty neighbor.

I came in and read Don's post about his father's illness and the dismal state of health care in America. We just went through something similar with M. Lee's dad, pneumonia, a struggle getting him out of the house and into the hospital. He's home now and doing just fine, in case you're wondering but it could have been that jumping off place. Perhaps you've been there too. Without modern medicine, I'd have died twenty years ago from a staph infection. Ugly way to go.

In nature, sick, injured, or old animals are eaten alive or, if they're lucky, walk off, curl up and die alone. Maybe even in peace. And there was that time in human history when, if you were cool, you shoved off in your little boat to die at sea or vanished into the forest before you were too much of a burden.

But here we are, in the great US of A, and most of us don't have any health care, or very good health care, what to speak of universal health coverage. And we can't even opt for the boat. If only it were a political problem with a political solution. Personally, I want everyone to live and die in comfort, surrounded by loved ones. Everyone. Including animals. And I want to close the slaughterhouses, end war, abolish poverty, stop global warming. But I don’t think those are political problems either. Or a question of the Right god. Not really. If they are, we’re screwed.