[Anonymous selections from recent correspondence]
A real-fish fish. Hey, with reference to James Knudsen's most recent "Loneliest Liberal" column—about his August 1975 trip to the Sierra Nevadas with his father and another father and son that involved fishing—we found that other fish photo referred to in some of the comments:
However, I'm not sure how you should caption it:
"It takes a lot of fish to cover Jim's rod"?
"It doesn't take very big fish"?
"I could have sworn he was wearing boots"?
So, what is the best way to help an endangered species when funding for their refuge runs out? According to government bureaucrats, just kill them: "Tortoises to Be Put to Death: Funds for Desert Conservation Center running out."
We don't quite follow how killing a few hundred of something that is already endangered somehow helps the situation, but that is what the government plans to do with up to 1,400 desert tortoises.
If you ever wanted to actually take an action, any action, instead of just thinking about it, this is a good place to start. Call someone. Write someone. Hell, threaten someone. "Logic" like this from ineffectual bureaucrats makes us wonder if the mentally and physically exhausted and injured U.S. military personnel eager to finally come home from Iraq and Afghanistan would be safer staying where they are.
The second-largest dog-fighting raids in U.S. history took place a week ago: "367 dogs rescued in 3-year dog fighting investigation in Alabama, Mississippi, Georgia."
It's ironic that the sheriff was so rough in his comments about dog fighters. Back when we were busting some fighting rings, the backwoods sheriffs and their deputies were usually involved in putting on the fights and protecting the people who attended from outsiders, like us. It was good to see that the ASPCA was apparently actually involved on the front lines in last week's raids—for a change. All they usually do is show up and take credit after everyone else does the dirty work. Times do change...sometimes for the better.
Goma, written up in the article, "DR Congo: UN peacekeeper killed in M23 battle near Goma," was the base of operations for my environmental and social efforts in that region. Amazing to think it is still today the way described in the article, yet it is much safer and relatively cleaned up from when I last spent time there. At least it will still be relevant and most likely in the news when you publish that sample chapter from Poacher tomorrow in the "Fifth Saturday Fiction" column.
In the meantime, the article about what's happening in Goma can serve as a reminder—when people get all worked up about the UN doing nothing when 100K are killed in Iraq or Syria—that the UN also did nothing when 800K were killed in Rwanda, and did nothing when 5,000K (five million) were killed in Congo.
The movie The Butler is really well done. It excellently portrays the split between older and younger generations' views as embodied by the butler and his Freedom Rider son. It has some aspects of a feel-good film, in a positive way. But it has all the pain of the 60's. There were times watching it when I thought I could not breathe and my body ached with the revisitation of bad times. And most of all, I suffered the intense personal feeling of: What did I do or not do? and What am I doing or not doing now, to make a difference?
The Washington Post's Mensa Invitational once again invited readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition. My favorite from among the winners:
Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.
Another sign that makes you wonder:
Limerick of the Week:
You may like the last, the forthright cannot-fix-it sign,
but the fishy-chip one is the favored one of mine.
If you like neither,
or need a breather,
there are some more for you to see beneath this line:
Copyright © 2013 by Morris Dean