We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
Each year at the start of the Jewish High Holidays, Rosh Hashanah, I ask a question, usually how to be more constructive and helpful in my personal relationships in general or with a special person. The answer eludes me and it troubles me that I can't see the way.
As I go through the days of prayer and reflection, various alternatives come from my mind, only to be rejected as too unreal or hollow or evasive or inadequate to the need.
On Yom Kippur, which begins tonight, the longest night and day of prayer, and of a 25-hour fast, the worry that I won't find the answer gets more urgent. My fear rises of not finding the answer. As my mind gets submerged in repetitious prayers and wanders, as I get more light-headed with hunger, as the prayers of repentance get more fervent, an answer always comes late in the day, from my heart.
It's never what I thought it would be. It is complete. It is not complex, though requires more focus, discipline, understanding. It always works for the coming year.
Life is only complicated when avoiding simple truths.
The miracle brings me closer to the person I want to be. It keeps me coming back for more.
Everybody has in mind one tune they'd like played at their funeral/mem service. Ripple, Every Grain of Sand, It is Well with my Soul, Hallelujah, or this one? Or a traditional hymn? Or what?
Zevon's dad kept telling him he was Jewish, but he died a Christian. This is My Ride is Here: "I was staying at the Marriott, with Jesus and John Wayne, we were waiting for a chariot, we were waiting for a train..."
Bruce didn't do a post for Yom Kippur (at least, not yet), but it's the holiest day of the Jewish calendar as I understand it. Often, I wish we Christians had held onto those High Holy Days.
VDH: The Madness of Progressive Projection - The only Trump “crime” was in his winning an election he was not supposed to win. So after the election, prior illegal acts were redefined as legal, and legal ones as illegal.
Intel Community IG Stonewalling Congress On Backdated Whistleblower Rule Changes - Michael Atkinson, the inspector general for U.S. intelligence agencies, acknowledged that his office secretly changed key whistleblower forms and rules in September, but refused to explain to lawmakers why those changes were backdated to August.
Interesting fellow, son of a Chicago Jewish gangster. Semi-cult rocker, serious musician, acerbic talker. Good pals with Dylan, Rick Barry, Carl Hiassen - lots of people. This is 1982:
Here's his frail last public appearance (2002), terminally ill with lung cancer (mesothelioma):
Note that they say "most," not all. Bipolar depression sure seems like a brain disorder of sorts, as do depressive symptoms related to peripartum, hypothyroidism, some GI cancers, etc.
To my mind, it's best to think of "depressive symptoms" rather than of a unitary phenomenon. Many acute depressive events I have seen are, in fact, reactive to events and could be viewed as grief.
37:1 Do not fret because of the wicked; do not be envious of wrongdoers, 37:2 for they will soon fade like the grass, and wither like the green herb. 37:3 Trust in the LORD, and do good; so you will live in the land, and enjoy security. 37:4 Take delight in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart. 37:5 Commit your way to the LORD; trust in him, and he will act. 37:6 He will make your vindication shine like the light, and the justice of your cause like the noonday. 37:7 Be still before the LORD, and wait patiently for him; do not fret over those who prosper in their way, over those who carry out evil devices. 37:8 Refrain from anger, and forsake wrath. Do not fret--it leads only to evil. 37:9 For the wicked shall be cut off, but those who wait for the LORD shall inherit the land.
From “Now the Pentagon tells Bush: climate change will destroy us” in London’s Observer, Feb. 21, 2004:
Climate change over the next 20 years could result in a global catastrophe costing millions of lives in wars and natural disasters.
A secret report, suppressed by US defence chiefs and obtained by The Observer, warns that major European cities will be sunk beneath rising seas as Britain is plunged into a ‘Siberian’ climate by 2020. Nuclear conflict, mega-droughts, famine and widespread rioting will erupt across the world.
The document predicts that abrupt climate change could bring the planet to the edge of anarchy as countries develop a nuclear threat to defend and secure dwindling food, water and energy supplies. The threat to global stability vastly eclipses that of terrorism, say the few experts privy to its contents.
‘Disruption and conflict will be endemic features of life,’ concludes the Pentagon analysis. ‘Once again, warfare would define human life.’
The findings will prove humiliating to the Bush administration, which has repeatedly denied that climate change even exists. Experts said that they will also make unsettling reading for a President who has insisted national defence is a priority. . . .
As early as next year widespread flooding by a rise in sea levels will create major upheaval for millions.
I remember how I would say, “I will gather These pieces together, Any minute now I will make A knife out of a cloud.” Even then the days Went leaving their wounds behind them, But, “Monument,” I kept saying to the grave, “I am still your legend.”
There was another time When our hands met and the clocks struck And we lived on the point of a needle, like angels.
I have seen the spider’s triumph In the palm of my hand. Above My grave, that thoroughfare, There are words now that can bring My eyes to my feet, tamed. Beyond the trees wearing names that are not their own The paths are growing like smoke.
The promises have gone, Gone, gone, and they were here just now. There is the sky where they laid their fish. Soon it will be evening.
On the advice of Maggie's Farm, I managed to find some spare hours to get my REAL ID driver's license (which all legally in the US will need in 2020), my Pre-check TSA number (no lines, no undressing, etc), and, lo and behold, my Social Security Card.
The TSA fingerprints you.
In the process, remarkably, I found my original birth certificate. How and why I had that little antique document is beyond me. Stuffed mouldering in the back of some old drawer.
Part of the hassle was getting a SS card. I haven't had one for decades, old one probably disintegrated. But you need one as part of the REAL ID process, which entails a fun visit to the SS office with all sorts of supporting stuff.
I think I now have all the legal documents I need, including my Concealed Carry permit. All of these documents vet you out fairly well, it seems. The latter vets you through the police and the FBI.
Image borrowed from Ace
NYC Is Now 
More details on Monarch migration, which is winding down now:
HOMEMADE