SmokeSound

That's Cooper. He is keeping our house safe from tigers. There is a jaguar somewhere down around Sonoita, who is keeping the Coronado National Forest safe for the Canadian mining firm that wants to dig an open pit, but we are in town and we have not seen a tiger, neither before nor since Cooper came to keep us safe. We do have javelinas, and bobcats, and coyotes, and even a sky full of hawks of worrying size, to say nothing of snakes, but no tigers; no sir, not with Cooper here! But while Cooper is issuing a barkload of proclamations to every passing critter, Mari and I worry about the bobcats and coyotes that--unlike our guardian-- can hop over our fence. No tigers, of course-- that is Cooper's forte´-- but who are fiercer even than our noble dog. And bigger. It comes to mind that the same guy who wrote the book, "May this House be Safe from Tigers", also wrote, "Never Trust a Naked Bus Driver".  I cannot rememb

Jewish and Christian language is filled with theocratic language:  language that describes rulers acting on behalf of god.  I am less knowledgeable about Islam, but I suspect it is just as prevalent there.  Islam is, after all, the other child in the Judaic tradition. To be clear, it is not so important whether one believes in god, or not:  language that refers to god is a claim to absolute truth and rights.  When people claim, for instance, that God blesses America (or anywhere else), they are supporting the idea that America (or whatever the place, or idea) is absolutely right. The function of religious language is a claim to authority.  If I tell you that eating pork, or working on a Sabbath, or getting a divorce, or not being circumcised is blessed by god, or forbidden by god, I am appealing to the highest authority I can cite to defend the claim. People often defend their ideas and actions and diets and countries and clothing by appealing to god.  When they do that, they

Somebody in our part of town is giving away free horse manure but I said I could not take any more politics, right now.

Implode:   to collapse violently in upon itself. In contrast to, exploding:  to burst violently, from internal pressure. Perhaps, in a president, preferable to exploding: fewer fragments. I think Mr. Trump will implode. There he is, hard at work, early in his Presidency, being presidential, signing a bill restricting women's rights to choose, insofar as he can do it, so far.  He is surrounded by Seven Deadly Witnesses, all of whom appear to be male, but who knows, these days?  I guess we can, in this case. Was there ever anyone less prepared to be President? There have been many who wanted it less, who actually knew what the job entailed, but we are a democracy, or a republic, and as Adlai Stevenson II once said, "In America, anybody can be president.  That's one of the risks you take." And we like to say we are risk takers, but we are not a monarchy or a mega-business: we are a republic; a very large one, and our President has

That photo is just to provide irrefutable proof that I was not born yesterday, nor even the day before. I was born when Herbert Hoover was president. I do not remember Herbert Hoover. Neither does anyone else. I do recall hearing Franklin D. Roosevelt's voice on a splintery, old radio, and I have some memory of every president since then, so I have been alive during the term of one of America's great presidents: most scholars list only Washington and Lincoln before him. 32.   Franklin D. Roosevelt  (March 4, 1933—April 12, 1945).  33.   Harry S. Truman  (April 12, 1945—January 20, 1953). 34.   Dwight D. Eisenhower  (January 20, 1953—January 20, 1961).  35.   John F. Kennedy  (January 20, 1961—November 22, 1963).  36.   Lyndon B. Johnson  (November 22, 1963—January 20, 1969).  37.   Richard Nixon  (January 20, 1969—August 9, 1974).  38.   Gerald Ford  (August 9, 1974—January 20, 1977).  39.   Jimmy Carter  (January 20, 1977—January 20, 1981).  4

"There's many a man hath more hair than wit." William Shakespeare, A Comedy of Errors Act II, Scene II I had been hoping it had been William of Orange who said that. Or better yet, Willem I. Willem the Taciturn. Before there were Twitter.

He ain't no Bald Eagle, but he does have a wingspan of 3.5 to 4+ feet, and sometimes he (or she) settles down on the chimney of the house next door because over at our door our dog Cooper ducks out through the dog flap in order to flop on the small bridge over the rock creek crossing our yard. This particular rock creek has never seen running water, although its predecessor did once in our tenure here. Today there are two such hawks lazing about in the winter sun-- I say it is winter because it is January: there is no other reason to say so-- just as I say Cooper is a dog because he says he is, at fifteen pounds and a collar. The two red-tailed hawks are uncommonly interested in our red-tailed dog, while he--our dog-claimant-- pretends to be on the watch for coyotes. They came by, a couple of days ago, causing Cooper to strut to attention and, like a presidential candidate, yip childish insults at them. The five coyotes circled the back fen

He is small, but mighty, and his might comes, not by reason of muscular genes, but by hard training and dedication. Cooper protects us from whatever other threat should come leashed down the street. Most of the dogs in our neighborhood are good-natured critters, perfectly willing to share the road with whatever comes by, but Cooper considers them all to be intruders. Truth be told, it is almost a problem: whatever the size of the dog-come-ambling. Cooper springs at him, stopped only by his leash and the frantic pleas of his new owner-walkers that he be a good dog. But Cooper is afraid of nothing, no threat, no useless peacenik wanting only to sniff along the roadside, and at whatever dog comes along. Cooper sleeps on a tiger, quite as if the tiger represented no threat, at all.  So when Cooper hits the street, he is not cowed by . . . oh, Bowser-the-Schnauzer, for instance, twice his size and four-times his amiability. Once beyond the Shock and Awe

 Mari and I made a bargain with each other, recently--one we were happy to make--that we would not buy each other further birthday gifts after we decided to move our trusty old leather couch out of our lives, and to have three chairs re-covered, instead. Daniel was not part of that bargain-- Why should he be?  He is not old enough to understand almost-double-digit-decade birthdays.  He does recognize an old iPad when he sees one, though.  When last we visited them in Portland, I forgot it, and Dan, thinking it was Mari's, arranged for her to pick up a new one, here in Tucson. As it happens, Dan did not know that it was my iPad, not Mari's, and that her's was much older even than mine:  1840-something, Mari says. Or almost.  Maybe not the oldest i-Pad, but the second generation. Then, because it was not a present, we had lunch at an Italian restaurant up the steps from the Apple store. This getting-older stuff is not so bad when you do it rig

In "The Year Back"--an earlier post-- I was trying to escape the fact  that we had just elected ... I am trying not to say ... "a narcissistic pig" to be our President. The man who would be President, who will be President, is an embarrassment when he talks about women, a cruel tyrant when he talks about immigrants, a manipulative liar when he talks about human equity, and an ignoramus when he talks about political realities. And we elected him. Already, he has changed my life. Even while admitting that it is a self-mutilating thing to do, I have withdrawn into a smaller place to live, unwilling to be a participant in everyday small talk with people who really do want to build a wall, who think that being American is being White, Christian, and male, who believe that God specially blesses America and think that government of the people, by the people, and for the people, is impossible unless the people are White, Christian, and male, and