“Parting Words from Moristotle” (07/31/2023) tells how to access our archives of art, poems, stories, serials, travelogues, essays, reviews, interviews, correspondence….
[Editor’s Note: Ed tells me that “The Unspoken War is a tale of international corruption that threatens the existence of a large number of species of sharks. Charlie Blankenship had never heard of shark finning, but a chance meeting and a trip to Costa Rica changed all that. His encounter with the Taiwanese mafia and a beautiful French environmentalist may lead to his death, but would you expect anything else in Paradise?”
The chapter we share here highlights shark finning, which you might not have heard of either. Below the chapter we provide excerpts from a couple of publications to throw further light on the deplorable practice, in Costa Rica, where Ed’s novel is set. You may, of course, elect to read them first, for the background.]
Bailey was a good dog. She wanted to be a good dog; she tried very hard. We first saw Bailey in a photo from a group called Rescue Sisters, out of Palm City Florida. She was at the back of the cage, sitting on her tail, obviously scared to death. The post said she was aggressive. I knew right off they were wrong. She wasn’t aggressive, she was terrified. Of what there was no way to tell, but Bailey was a brindle Catahoula, a breed we have extensive experience with, and when brindle hounds are frightened they tend to respond aggressively. A fine point, but there is a difference.
Anyone ought to act soon who would like to see Stanley Kubrick’s 1964 film classic, Dr. Strangelove, one more time. It may soon be too late: “Kim’s Rejoinder to Trump’s Rocket Man: ‘Mentally Deranged U.S. Dotard’” [Choe Sang-Hun, NY Times, September 21]. Excerpt:
Nearly thirty years ago I was driving to St. John’s Hospital in Santa Monica, California to see for the first time my nephew. Fifteen days ago I watched as that same nephew made his mother, Morissa, a mother-in-law. This milestone occurred in the Czech Republic capital of Prague.
[Items of correspondence are not attributed; they remain anonymous. They have been chosen for their inherent interest as journalism, story, or provocative opinion, which may or may not be shared by the editor or other members of the staff of Moristotle & Co.]
Trump could never even think tweets like these: “The Trump Tweets We’ll Never See” [Andrew Postman, NY Times, August 19]. Excerpt:
[Items of correspondence are not attributed; they remain anonymous. They have been chosen for their inherent interest as journalism, story, or provocative opinion, which may or may not be shared by the editor or other members of the staff of Moristotle & Co.]
Interesting view of feminist philosophy, which seems to promise improvement, not only in the climate for women, but also in philosophical thinking itself: “Feminism and the Future of Philosophy” [Gary Gutting, NY Times, September 18]. Excerpt:
My wife and I have for many years purchased seeds for our bird feeders from the Wild Bird Center in Chapel Hill. That’s where I met Carolyn Richardson and her younger son, Nolan, both of whom had started working there a few weeks earlier.
On Saturday, June 17, the Paris metro stations were relatively deserted for our 6 a.m. departure from Mark’s apartment. We were off to take a train from Gare Du Nord to the port city of Calais, to be met there by our friend Penelope Griffiths, who had driven over from Cardiff, Wales to meet us and take us back on a ferry across the English Channel so we could see the White Cliffs of Dover.
[Editor’s Note: Hurricane Irma seems to be telling us to go ahead and announce n o w the forthcoming publication of Roger’s novella: “With 130-M.P.H. Winds, Storm’s Eye Begins Passing Over the Florida Keys,” says a headline today in the NY Times. “The eye of the Category 4 hurricane was 15 miles southeast of Key West, the National Hurricane Center said.”]
For the inaugural post of “Sketches” from the Twin Cities, after our move there last month from Salt Lake City, here are some scenes from the 2017 Minnesota State Fair. I will let the photos and videos tell the story, with minimal help from my aphoristic captions.
We had a creed — I shop therefore I am;
We had a name — the honorific Ma’am,
that word of light whose bright acoustics beam
about the altars of the old regime.
[Originally published on September 9, 2007, not a word different, same image as then, but with an author’s note at the very end.]
I have talked approvingly of what I understood to be Kierkegaard’s view, on the question of belief in God, that it was nobler (as well as more accurate) to hang with one hand from one ledge of the narrow chasm of religious belief and with the other hand from the opposite ledge than to transfer either hand to join the other on the same ledge. Hanging precariously from both ledges symbolized doubt. Kierkegaard thought doubt nobler because it consigned the doubter to the perpetual angst of his uncertainty whether to believe or not to believe, since, as a matter of accuracy, the person could not be objectively sure which belief was right.
Acquiring new skills in old age is said to help ward off dementia and Alzheimer’s Disease. Taking a half-way measure, I decided instead to improve my knowledge of Portuguese.
6 new paintings recently got “finished,” so of course let’s stuff them on moristotle [one at a time on prime-numbered days over the next two weeks, at the editor’s insistence; he thinks this stuff is “rich...in glorious expression, color, evocation, ARTISTRY!”].
.jpg)
