I Can Clean, I Can Drive

Plenty of sleep, no more tv, the wars in the Middle East are resource wars, disguised as religious debates. So Dad would say. A beautiful winter day, hunting season. A Gun In Every Home, in light of U.S. mass shootings seems an irresponsible poem. 10K clicks most popular poem on line, NRA enthusiasts and conservative talk show hosts quoting it. Not really, no worries, poetry makes nothing happen. Which is something, magic.                *                     *                     * I wonder if I'll have to someday defend that poem, as in a Russian or Chinese show trial, Salem witch trial, McCarthy anti-American committee or a college political correctness safety hearing. Oh well. What does it mean? Doc Wiseman says that's not how we decide things in this country, lynching and chasing people with dogs. You'd think twice about bombing Iran if Iran had the bomb. Assume a defensive posture. I've been reading Walzer's Just and Unjust Wars, much like explaining how to tie your shoes, or teaching an artificial intelligence to walk, talk and think about God.                *                     *                     * The citizenry doesn't need weaponry sufficient to win a war, just enough to give pause during its normal pursuit of pleasure (hunting deer on a beautiful, clear winter morning). Hunting and gathering and agriculture, local and small or these almonds I'm eating from California's Imperial Valley and all the water it took to grow 'em. Slowly           drip irrigation                                takes hold. Technologies such as the Anasazi and other aborigines used are uploaded for sustainable survival. Much good goes with the bad, school shootings with school science shows, art shows and       Shakespeare's plays. How to stop the unhappiness of ISIS those lonesome souls from interfering with the evolution of the species? With love. What did Christ mean (and what did Wallace Stevens mean by imagination)?                *                     *                     * Accept (but contain). Trust (but verify). Ha ha! Reagan was a pretty funny guy. It must bother a president, a regular fellow who'll pack his suitcase and       go back to Iowa when his term is up, to know he's ordered the death of a janitor on the night shift at a nuclear reprocessing plant in a proportional response to a mullah's anger. Jurors in the trial of Boston Marathon bomber Dzhokhar Tsarnaev have sentenced him to death. For his role in killing four people and wounding hundreds more. There was no visible reaction from Tsarnaev, 21, in the quiet courtroom. Justice. In his own words "an eye for an eye." Survivor Jared Clowery said he was happy not to have had to make the       choice between life and death himself but he stands behind the jury's       decision. "There's nothing happy about having to take someone's life." Good people without guilt or gloating. Yet my thought was now we must forego the possibility of knowing this young man's mind. There's still time to ask him questions as in Dead Man Walking. To understand is to love requiring the patience of the scientific method.                *                     *                     * Yesterday's single greatest joy was solving the equation T = 2pi(r3/GMe)½ for Haley's comet orbiting the sun. And sitting in the sun on a winter day.