Sunday, February 15, 2015
Anti-terrorist fantasies
I'm not sure what to do about ISIS or "home-grown" terrorists in Europe and elsewhere, but I am pretty sure that overreacting to every albeit horrific act of terrorism is bound to fail. Treating murder as murder seems to me the civilized and smart approach...
Terrorism is murder, whether it is in Paris, Copenhagen or any US town. Every day about 70 Americans are murdered, most by guns. Unless the victims are famous or cute most are ignored by the media. But a minor terrorist attack gets headlines. A YouTube video of a beheading forces the US President to go to " war" in order to avoid being called weak by his domestic political opposition. That's not leadership! Worse, the so called Hawks push for deeper evolvement irrespective of military reality. They live in a fantasy world of US military exceptionalism. (Kenneth S. Brower, "Some thoughts about our so called 'war' on ISIS," excerpted by James Fallows here.)
Philip Levine, RIP
One of my favorites. He was best known for his poems about factory work, but he was also a wonderful observer of California.
Snails
Philip Levine
The leaves rusted in the late winds
of September, the ash trees bowed
to no one I could see. Finches
quarrelled among the orange groves.
I was about to say something final
that would capture the meaning
of autumn's arrival, something
suitable for bronzing,
something immediately recognizable
as so large a truth it's totally untrue,
when one small white cloud - not much
more then the merest fragment of mist -
passed between me and the pale
thin cuticle of the mid-day moon
come out to see the traffic and dust
of Central California. I kept quiet.
The wind stilled, and I could hear
the even steady ticking of the leaves,
the lawn's burned hay gasping
for breath, the pale soil rising
only to fall between earth and heaven,
if heaven's there. The world would escape
to become all it's never been
if only we would let it go
streaming toward a future without
purpose or voice. In shade the ground
darkens, and now the silver trails
stretch from leaf to chewed off leaf
of the runners of pumpkin to disappear
in the cover of sheaves and bowed grass.
On the fence blue trumpets of glory
almost closed - music to the moon,
laughter to us, they blared all day
though no one answered, no one
could score their sense or harmony
before they faded in the wind and sun.
(from What Work Is, 1991)
Snails
Philip Levine
The leaves rusted in the late winds
of September, the ash trees bowed
to no one I could see. Finches
quarrelled among the orange groves.
I was about to say something final
that would capture the meaning
of autumn's arrival, something
suitable for bronzing,
something immediately recognizable
as so large a truth it's totally untrue,
when one small white cloud - not much
more then the merest fragment of mist -
passed between me and the pale
thin cuticle of the mid-day moon
come out to see the traffic and dust
of Central California. I kept quiet.
The wind stilled, and I could hear
the even steady ticking of the leaves,
the lawn's burned hay gasping
for breath, the pale soil rising
only to fall between earth and heaven,
if heaven's there. The world would escape
to become all it's never been
if only we would let it go
streaming toward a future without
purpose or voice. In shade the ground
darkens, and now the silver trails
stretch from leaf to chewed off leaf
of the runners of pumpkin to disappear
in the cover of sheaves and bowed grass.
On the fence blue trumpets of glory
almost closed - music to the moon,
laughter to us, they blared all day
though no one answered, no one
could score their sense or harmony
before they faded in the wind and sun.
(from What Work Is, 1991)
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
Sunday, February 8, 2015
Watchin' a little Grammies...
... wishin' I could be back out in Foothills Park as the Pineapple Express blows through...
John Quiggin nails it
On the Republican anti-vaxers:
The logic of the issue is pretty much identical to that of climate change, gun control, and other policies disliked by the Republican/schmibertarian base. People want to be free to do as they please, even when there’s an obvious risk to others[,] and don’t want to hear experts pointing out those risks. So, they find bogus experts who will tell them what they want to hear, or announce that they are “skeptics” who will make up their own minds.
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