Tuesday, September 15, 2026

Regular Petfinder Post: Dachshunds and Shorr-Haired Cats

This is Biscuit from NYC. See below.


I do know what got into me today. The cats have missed Wonder-kitten. Silver missed having kittens; she inherited the Seralini trait and most of her kittens seemed to be nothing but little bundles of excreted toxicity that nature never intended to live, and the first time she gave birth to living kittens who wanted milk she seemed to have some trouble starting the cycle, but she enjoyed nursing kittens. Most female cats apparently do. I think she's been spayed, without my consent. This year, either she's had more unpleasant glyphosate reactions due to being unable to sequester toxins in fetuses, or she's had more unpleasant reactions to something in "New Roundup," or maybe both. She's often looked as sore-eyed as Pastel used to look. She seemed miffed that Wonder didn't want to start a lactation cycle, and then, after he died, one evening she solicited attention and even snuggles, which she never does under normal circumstances, and I've not seen her since. Apparently Wild Thyme died by misadventure and Silver went off in search of kittens. If she can't have kittens of her own, knowing Silver, she's likely to look for another cat who has some and try to be that cat family's nursemaid. Social cats normally do rear kittens together. Normal cats may or may not understand.

I've missed Silver, but, docile though she is, she wants what she wants. She was delighted to be an indoor pet in winter. In summer, not so much. The alternative to letting her go out and endanger her life would have been to keep her, literally, like a caged animal in the house. As things are...if she finds a mate, or even a cat family that will have her as a nursemaid, she may want to move in with those cats' humans, and if not she may be able to remember the way home again. Or someone might recognize this little face, on what is now a middle-aged cat, and bring her home.


Silver is still small and slim, healthy weight eight or nine pounds; not particularly cuddly and not particularly gentle, but not aggressive, likely to sit beside a person or on person's knee with her claws out; usually very quiet and polite, not usually likely to overeat though she has a good appetite and eats quickly. If she looks bleary-eyed, sniffles, wheezes, or coughs it's probably a glyphosate reaction that will pass. She was treated for worms after living as a feral cat two years ago, responded well to treatment, but may have an additional, less common parasite problem--a vet would be able to tell from a fecal sample. She is a sensitive little animal who wants very much to be loved by other social cats. She accepts love and affection from humans, but it's just not the same.

Missing Silver, who neighbors think is roaming around in the woods, may have something to do with the fact that I became involved with what is apparently a routine event in two towns in California, the slaughter of pets who've not been adopted in one month. This shouldn't happen. I didn't want to believe it would happen if people posted about it on social media--but after "trending" in the middle of the night, the topic was overshadowed by more ignorance about Lindsay Clancy in the daytime. 

So there was that, when I was awake, and then there was the stage of a glyphosate reaction that involves narcolepsy, interference with both waking and sleeping, and probably kidney damage. I blame the brainfog on having gone out in the beautiful, cool, sunny morning to talk to visitors. Thought as well as movement, even typing, are taking place at about half my usual pace. It's now almost 10 p.m. and here I am finishing the post I should have had up here before 10 a.m. Anyway. Here are the usual shelter animal photos.

What's a Clumber Spaniel? you might be asking. The name was familiar to me from a short story by Eleanor Farjeon, in which a young man with few advantages in life wrote to a woman, "MY LOVE! I love you because you are lovely like my Pup." 


This is a show-quality "Clumber Pup." So Farjeon may have been saying that the girl was not what we would now consider very pretty.

Clumber Spaniels differ from other spaniel breeds in being thickset, short (up to 20" at the shoulder) but very heavy (55-85 pounds). This breed originated in England and has mostly stayed there. Clumber Spaniels do exist in the US, and Petfinder has pages for them, but no shelter in the Eastern States currently has one seeking adoption. They are a breed the Bossyboots of Britain do not approve of, probably because they have long hair and floppy ears.

So we move on to the next breed on the list of dog breeds the Busybodies & Nannies hate, which is Dachshunds, which are better known in the US. Dachshunds are the "sausage dogs" with the long slim bodies and short legs. There's a larger variety that stand up to 9" high at the shoulder, and a "miniature" variety up to 6" high. Not bred to be able to survive on their own, they appeal to humans because they're small and non-threatening. Like Chihuahuas, they can chomp, if they're driven to it, but they're not hard for a human to kill. If the human believed they needed to be killed, anyway. The normal human reaction to a Dachshund is to want to pick it up and cuddle it. Adult dogs usually don't want to be picked up and cuddled, but if they're Dachshunds they usually can learn to tolerate this behavior.

But a friend's Dachshund asked me to tell you that she would prefer that people let her sniff their feet and then throw something for her to chase. She has that in common with my non-cuddly cat Serena. She will snuggle beside her human and take naps, as adult cats and dogs normally do with friends of any species, but she is not a baby and does not want to be used as a substitute for one.

Small as they are, Dachshunds are indeed hounds--hunting dogs. The larger variety were bred to dig badgers out of their burrows, the "miniatures" to dig out rabbits. They are strong for their size, and heavy (the taller ones can weigh up to 30 pounds), and they can be stubborn. They can usually bark like big dogs, which makes them effective watchdogs. They can be reckless. They were bred to go into small places and kill and carry out animals as big as they are, or bigger. You want them to tell you when strangers approach, not get themselves killed by tearing into a sharp-hoofed deer, a man, or even a bear who persists in approaching. 

If they get enough of the right kind of exercise Dachshunds normally live 12 to 16 years. They may need help to maintain a healthy weight and avoid forms of exercise that might overstrain their backs.  Jumping or climbing stairs can be dangerous. They are generally healthy dogs but should be checked for heart and joint defects. They need exercise on the level; they prefer to be near their humans, are often happiest as indoor pets, but live longest if they walk outdoors regularly. They are most likely to pay attention to the noises humans make when they love and want to please thei humans; they don't like to feel that they've been bullied into doing anything. 

As a breed Dachshunds receive full marks for loyalty to their humans, good marks for good behavior with other animals and small children. 

Zipcode 10101: Biscuit from NYC 
[see above]


They think a Dachshund managed to crossbreed with a German Shepherd. Biscuit was picked up as a stray dog, but seems friendly and eager to be a pet (again?).

Moonshine from NYC


Though they think the person who put him in the shelter was unkind to him, and he's very wary about loud noises and sudden movements, Moonshine is said to be generally friendly. He wants to sleep on his human's bed and is said to meow to be let into his foster family's bedrooms, but "will stop after about twenty minutes."  

Zipcode 20202: Delta from DC 


Thought to be about 8 months old and part retriever, Delta currently weighs 18 pounds and is expected to grow to as much as 30 pounds. She's not fully trained; she's just a puppy.

Garbanzo Bean from South Carolina by Way of DC 


Seriously? The rest of the litter of kittens named after varieties of bean were cuter than that? I don't want to know. Anyway, this is the kitten who's remained unadopted long enough to be advertised in DC. Basic spring kitten story. To her former human family I say: if you could put that little face in a shelter, any cat who puts up with you probably deserves to be sterilized. Just do it. 

Zipcode 30303: Jazmina from Douglasville 



She's in a county shelter; they don't have much to say about her. I'm not sure why her best photo displays sidewise. Blogspot does not have a mechanism for fixing this.

Sailor Pluto from Chattanooga by way of Atlanta 


They think this one is a future Queen Cat with that way of staring at people before she decides to snuggle. There's also a "Sailor Mercury" whose distinguishing quality appears to be shyness. They don't insist on the two kittens being adopted together, but two kittens are generally easier to live with than one kitten...unless you have a young adult cat like our Drudge, who really seemed to enjoy reliving kittenhood with Wonder. 

Petfinder Post: The Deadliest Shelter in California

Posting on social media, very late at night, can be dangerous.

I was up last night, being my own nightwatchman again. About 2 a.m. I finished an e-book on Book Funnel, deleted it, and clicked over to X to note that I now preferred to read e-books on Book Funnel rather than Kindle because on Book Funnel, when I've read a book and thought that one reading was enough, I just click on "delete" right there on my "library" page, whereas Amazon now requires us to open a new tab and click around on the Amazon page to delete books from Kindle. 

Wait a minute. What was on the "Trending" list? At 2 a.m., what people were tweeting about was a dog execution day in California.

California likes to claim it's a no-kill state, but actually it has two county shelters, in Modesto and in a little town called Apple Valley, where pets get three or four weeks, max, and then they're killed.

Today is the last-chance adoption day for several pets. 


This is Myrtle from Apple Valley. Myrtle is not scheduled for execution today but she has plenty to yowl about. 


Apple Valley's "browse pets" page is long. Cats and dogs of every description and a tame turtle and a pet pig. Apparently, according to the video a shelter volunteer posted, they're still kept in a traditional shelter arrangement. While the volunteer was trying to show how friendly one puppy was, all the other dogs were barking and howling, "Me! Pick me! No me!" in the background.

All overpriced, until the 15th of the month. Then many are available free of charge. Then the ones who weren't picked go to the gas chamber.

"Harvey" caught my eye. "Harvey" is a handsome dog with a black and tan coat, a mix of Doberman and German Shepherd. 

Beautiful breeds. 

Handsome dogs. Strong. Healthy. Clever. Good instinctive hunters. In the wild they'd go feral and devolve back into coyotes, but they'd probably survive on their own. 

They are of course good-sized dogs. They eat a lot. They can trot beside you for a few miles, and nobody's going to bother you during that walk, but you need to be fairly strong and fast to train these dogs to walk at heel. In the event of problems, including needle phobia, you also need to be strong to get them into a carrying cage ("crated") and deliver them to the vet. 

Harvey was apparently spared at the last minute in August, but not actually adopted, so he's on death row again this month. 

Nobody has said he's been anything but a good dog. Dobermans have a reputation for biting, and they can bite, if they want to, but when they're well kept they don't want to. 

So why has his picture been pulled off the "adoptable" page and, instead of being shared with other organizations in other States, is this reportedly well-behaved dog going to die tomorrow? I don't know. The shelter is in a small, even rural, sort of town and reportedly has room to hold a few dogs over for another month. But they just clear space by killing a lot of animals.

If you are in California, you may still have time to drive out and save a life. Before slaughtering these shelter animals they do offer free foster arrangements and, for some animals, free adoption, to people they consider "local." 

I saw "free foster" and posted that I'd foster a dog if they didn't find someone closer. 

California is a big State. There must be someone closer than I am who can at least feed these dogs for a month or two while advertising them to other people. 

I don't seriously imagine that any volunteer is going to drive or fly out to Gate City, to meet me (in the parking lot in front of Food Lion), check that I'm not on a list of animal abusers while I walk the dog around the parking lot, and deliver the dog to my front gate. But I'll do that, if they will, rather than let these dogs be killed.

Meanwhile, will everyone who can't foster a dog please share pictures everywhere. Tag everyone you know on every social site you use. Possibly, in addition to rescuing dogs, people will feel moved to set up better options for abandoned dogs in Apple Valley and Modesto.

Web Log for 9.14.26

Just music links...

Music

Blind Faith.


Charles Trenet.


Nick Drake.


Trace Adkins. Warning: YouTube thinks they need to protect children from knowing that anything they say might be interpreted as "fighting words." YouTube thinks children should feel encouraged to blurt out anything that's ever made them think, "Why did that person say that? It doesn't sound nice. How would other people react if someone, as it might be I, said that to them?" If you are a child, please ask an older person to post a comment telling YouTube what a silly idea this is.


The Beatles.


Nelson Riddle.


Some Russians dramatizing a ballad with a cartoon video.


Dvorak.


Avishai Cohen.



Jewel.


Junior Brown.


Laika & the Cosmonauts.


The Ballyhooligans.


David Crosby. 


Sir Douglas Quintet.


Tom Petty.


Jesse Colin Young.



Sandy Denny.

New Book Review: Deadly Little Lessons

Title: Deadly Little Lessons

Author: Danielle Valentine

Date: September 15, 2026 

Publisher: Putnam

ISBN: 978-0-593-86041-0

Quote: "[A]ll students will be required to sign a non-disclosure agreement..."

For some writers and publishers in the "dark academia" genre, the goal is to build a perception that higher education attracts unpleasant people, makes people unpleasant, because wanting to qualify for "better" jobs than the proletariat is a bad thing. I'm not sure that that's the intention of this novel but there is a clear suggestion that depriving students of cell phones is something sadistic teachers do when they want to prevent students from telling anyone how extreme their sadistic "teaching methods" have become.

There's also that trope I hate where the girl only thinks she hates the obnoxious boy because she's really attracted to him. I hate that because it feeds into a belief, which teenaged girls don't need, that girls can't find or won't really want to find boyfriends who aren't obnoxious; that girls don't really mind obnoxious behavior because they just want male attention, any attention from any male, any time; that if boys were likable as friends they'd be unattractive as potential mates. None of this is true.

So, as an adult, I don't approve of this novel. My inner teenager remembers the atmosphere at a school where new students were told, "Look at the person on your right. Look at the person on your left. Look at the person in front of you. Only one of the four of you will be here next year," and thinks that Danielle Valentine got that right, anyway. Some attempts to motivate students do have emotionally toxic effects.

Lia and her foster sister Scarlett think they want to get into a prep school called Luminary that guarantees them admission to the college of Lia's choice. Lia believes it's the school where her parents met, before her father blew up a building and inadvertently killed her mother. This turns out not to be her "real" origin story but she's working with it most of the way through the book. Luminary has a beautiful, scenic, rural campus and offers comfortable beds and palatable food. It also piles on the homework for challenging courses. It also uses high-tech, creatively sadistic assignments and tests to motivate the students. Most of the students appear to be injured or killed. Nobody knows for sure whether they're recovering from injuries in the basement, or worse. The students know for sure when a boy who violated the rule about keeping a phone or, worse, trying to make a private phone call, has the bones in his hand cracked with a mallet.

Will the ones who've survived to that point in the term be able to work together to escape from Luminary, despite the armed guards patrolling its walls? Without spoiling the ending, I will say that Lia's willingness to trust a police officer who's arrested her for routine delinquency will serve her well.

I found this an unpleasant story about unpleasant people in unpleasant situations. That's what some teenagers look for, and of course, a moment of thought about how far-fetched the whole story is does make it funny--though I don't think the author or characters are aware that it's funny. As a piece of controlled subversion, an entertaining school story in which the school has to be worse than the one where the intended reader is reading the story, "Deadly Little Lessons" will do.

Monday, September 14, 2026

Web Log for 9.11-13.26

Sigh. The blogroll is still not working. Google has made itself really annoying all weekend...in order to sneak "Gemini" back onto my screen and add lots of new ways corporate sites can violate people's privacy, but not to fix the blogroll. Feh. 

Hunger in America 


Found on the Mirror. Lens traces it to the Minnesota Star-Tribune.

Music 

Jamie O'Neil.


Kurt Elling.


Steve Earle.


Conway Twitty.


Jack Williams.


SheDaisy.


Darius Rucker. (Religious content.)


K.C. and the Sunshine Band.


Barbra Streisand.


Roy Rogers.



Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. 


Unknown parody remake of "Kung Fu Fighting."


Jim Reeves (recording embedded in blog post).


Alan Jackson. (Several people posted this. I thought "25 years...The Nephews might want to know," and made a post here about where I was and what I lost.)


Gunhild Carling.


Someone with the screen name "Maggie the Afterlove Voice."


Someone in India who wanted to be videotaped by a tourist who couldn't spell his name, so the video is titled "Funny Guy in India." 


Willie Nelson.


Kentucky Headhunters.


Johnny Cash.


Politics 


Found on the Mirror. (The face is a generic well-preserved face of course, but the hair could be mine. I don't think I know the cartoonist, so can only guess that the cartoonist knows someone else with very similar hair.)

Book Review: Dogbert's Top Secret Management Handbook

It's another rerun...I returned to my e-books-to-read list, and the book I read today was another Sunday book. I should come to something thoroughly secular soon. I already have a few reviews scheduled for October (Halloween) and December (Christmas) too.

Book Title: Dogbert's Top Secret Management Handbook

Author: Scott Adams

Date: 1996

Publisher: Harper Collins

ISBN: 0-88730-788-4

Illustrations: cartoons by the author

Quote: "If you are not a manager, put this book down right now."

The comedy of the Dilbert cartoon series depended on two basic premises: (1) The managers of the offices you know are human beings, not dogs, cats, rats, or lunatics whose few remaining hairs form little devil horns. (2) If the decisions of the managers you know seem arbitrary, egotistical, and silly, you have a constitutional right to warn them that they're going wrong by showing them a Dilbert cartoon.

Therefore, everybody liked Dilbert cartoons.

While most cartoonists settled for reprinting last year's cartoon strips as a book, Scott Adams pieced his books together with fresh new text in which he explained the thoughts that inspired the cartoons. The use of text seemed to inspire him to fresh satirical blasts. Every page or two still contained a cartoon.

It's all very funny, and while humor-challenged socialists griped because the strip never recommended nationalizing the industry, I occasionally asked myself why Dilbert, Wally, and Alice didn't just start their own business. Big business secret #1: small, efficient businesses are to big, bloated businesses as Jerry Rice is to Rush Limbaugh. Big business secret #2: big, bloated businesses have lobbied for years to create illogical laws that function to keep small, efficient businesses from running circles around big, bloated businesses. You can blame protectionist laws on capitalism and Big Business, or on socialism and Big Government, or (like Lincoln Steffens) simply on "corruption." More than the need to keep the comic strip's appeal to its audience, protectionist laws were what kept Dilbert, Wally, and Alice chained to their cubicles.

Now you know. Knowledge is power. Now you can cut through some of the bloat and necrosis in whatever business you're in. You can be ethical, 99% stress-free while you work, efficient, and creatively fulfilled in self-employment...works for me, when I get work. Or you can join the crowd who just try to be grateful that their wage-slave job isn't quite as ridiculous as Dilbert's.

If you decide to be independent, I think you may need Dilbert more than the wage slaves do. From time to time we need reminders of what we're missing. It's tempting to listen to those who say "Just give up your silly idea and get a real job." 

As if tedium, stupidity, and backstabbing were what made a job "real"?

Butterfly of the Week: Heraclides Caiguanabus

This week's butterfly is found in Cuba and is sometimes called the Cuban Swallowtail. It's also sometimes called Poey's Swallowtail, after the naturalist who first described it. He gave it the official name caiguanabus, from Caiguanabo, a place name meaning "big plantation." The place name is pronounced as spelled in Spanish so the butterfly's name should logically be Kye-gwah-NAH-boos.


This butterfly is hard to find even in Cuba, so its conservation status is unclear. We know there aren't many of H. caiguanabus; we don't know exactly how many there are, or whether there could be more. A few butterflies of this species have been seen in Florida or Mexico. 


Photo by Dayronbreto.Males often show more yellow and brown color, as above, while females are more likely to look white and black or even iridesce blue-green; in some lights their pale spots may look light blue. Females may be slightly larger than males and may have either longer or shorter tails.


Photo by Alex835. 

Tails, and parts of the hind wings, are sometimes missing.This may indicate that the individual survived an attack by a predator. Then again some females just don't have very long tails.


Photo by Alex835. 

The patterning on the neck, especially noticeable in the male, identifies this species. 

Flying adults are seen from April through September at altitudes lower than 1000 feet above sea level. They are often seen sipping nectar from flowers in the genera Lantana, Tournefortia, Ixora, and others. 

The caterpillar can look black from above, brown and white from the side, in what is probably its fifth caterpillar skin, just before pupation. The white markings do not meet across the top side to form a "saddle" or "girdle" as they do for some Swallowtail caterpillars. Caterpillars have been successfully reared on Securinega acidothamnus, a plant in the Euphorbia family, and on Zanthoxylum

Sunday, September 13, 2026

New Book Review: The Cyrene Conspiracy

Title: The Cyrene Conspiracy 

Author: Ali Kaden

Date: 2026

Publisher: Third Culture Soul Publishing

ISBN: 979-8-9976635-0-6 

Quote: "She claimed to have something connected to Jesus and ancient Christianity that she wanted me to investigate."

Amir Zane, a young Egyptian-American writer, is asked to investigate an old parchment on which is written, among other things, "not him but another." 

If you remember Holy Blood Holy Grail or The Da Vinci Code you may now have some idea what to expect Amir is about to learn. There were, in the ancient world, a lot of ideas about who Jesus was and what had become of him. 

What became the orthodox Roman Catholic view, derived from the epistles of Paul in our New Testament, was that the Holy One is a unity of (probably an infinite number of Persons actually, but Three that we think we know about for sure) Three Persons, and Jesus was the one of those Persons who chose to exist in human form for thirty-some years. He didn't exactly look forward to crucifixion, but chose to take human form at a period when publicly doing and saying even the nice things our Gospels record would offend enough "higher-up" people to result in crucifixion. In some cosmic way this willing self-sacrifice of a perfect man atoned for the sinfulness of humankind and allowed those who followed Him to be saved from the eternal destruction our sinfulness deserved. 

Many people find this hard to believe. How could the Holy One have created a universe where some part of God's self would need to be killed by torture to show love for humankind? Couldn't the real story have been something simpler? Maybe Jesus came to show people how to lead a virtuous life, was murdered in the ordinary way, and came back to tell us that the resurrection will set all of our inherently immortal souls free from really ceasing to exist, which some people seem to fear more than they fear the pain of death. Maybe he wasn't even murdered. A theory that the apostle Thomas, whose name means "twin," was Jesus' twin is hard to reconcile with the Gospels. Some people theorized that Jesus had a secret twin who either was the one who walked around Jerusalem after Jesus died, or died in Jesus' place. Maybe even the apostles didn't know about this twin...

Relatively few churches try to reenact the full "Passion" drama. "Passion" does not merely mean the emotional outburst Victorian writers meant by saying someone "flew into a passion" and presumably yelled or cried, nor does it merely mean the physical feelings modern writers usually have in mind. It means "suffering." Before being crucified the Gospels make it clear that Jesus chose to endure some additional torture. The crucificarii, an ancient Roman term of abuse meaning "men about to be crucified" and used as a general term of contempt, were forced to drag their crosses through the streets before they were hanged on them. All of them were thus displayed to the public as sweating, bleeding, miserable messes. Jesus, we are told, had been beaten thoroughly and lost a fair bit of blood before the crucifixion, and the people who came out to taunt and throw things at the crucificarii felt sorry for him. Along the way he collapsed on the ground. Some say the Roman soldiers dragooned someone else into carrying his cross, so that the mob could watch Jesus' final agony on the cross; some say a kind man  volunteered to do it, to spare Jesus some small part of the suffering he had chosen. Some have imagined that Jesus was given an extra-large cross that was meant for Barabbas and had been built by a relative of someone Barabbas had murdered. In any case, all the Gospel writers say about the man who actually carried the cross for the last part of the way was that he was called Simon of Cyrene. 

About the given name, what we know is that "Simon" was one of those names that become popular in multiethnic societies because they seem traditional in more than one language. Two of the apostles were called Simon, at least until Jesus gave one of them the nickname Peter. Many other men used the same name. It does not tell us whether this man was Greek or Jewish.

About the place he came from, history tells us a little more. Cyrene was in Libya but it was built into a city by Greeks; they might have moved away from one of the islands because of renewed volcanic activity. The official leader of the Greeks who settled there was their princess, the daughter of the king they had lost, and the place was named after her. It was dedicated to the sun god Apollo, who was said to be the father of a child to whom the princess gave birth. Several Jews settled there. Later many people in the city became Christians; it had a church, and bishops who are still on the list of obscure saints. Mark, the Gospel writer, was said to have been a Jew from Cyrene who became the city's first bishop. 


Photo of what's left of part of ancient Cyrene from Wikipedia. 


Photo posted on Facebook by Grigol Pheradze. At least the rich people who had their portraits painted or sculpted in ancient Cyrene look more like modern southern Europeans than like modern Africans. Then again, northern Africans don't look all that different from southern Europeans. Nevertheless, when Passion dramas are enacted, any Black man who attends the church is likely to be cast as Simon of Cyrene. Simon of Cyrene may have been Black but, even if he was, he would have been in Jerusalem to trade or to visit relatives, as a well-off gentleman from a wealthy city. He was not a fugitive slave, or if he was one he hadn't been enslaved in Cyrene; ex-slaves didn't claim the places they'd fled from as home. He might have been Jewish. He might have looked remarkably similar to Jesus. He might have been crucified in Jesus' place, while Jesus faded out of mortal view and, as some old texts say, laughed at the idea of mere men thinking they could crucify the Prophet who had become so virtuous as to be allowed to embody God. 

For all Muslims, Jesus is remembered as a prophet, sometimes called the greatest of prophets, a sinless teacher of peace and mercy. "We don't say 'Son of God,'" a Muslim once explained to me, "but 'Soul of God'. Anyone could choose to embody the Soul of God, but only Jesus did." Was he crucified because his enemies said he had claimed to be a Son of God, which Jews and Muslims agreed would have been blasphemy...or did it only appear that he was? Did he travel on to other places and teach peace and mercy to, e.g., the Persians, who had their own monotheistic religion in which he might have been seen as a fulfilment of prophecy? Could Mary Magdalene have received more ink in the Gospels than even Mother Mary, not because she was much older than the other women disciples, but because she was Jesus' wife; could they have had a child? 

If Christians seriously study the history of the Church, these ideas are familiar to them; they are some of the major heresies. In the Christian tradition the idea that Jesus was a natural man who earned the title "Son of God" by abstaining from all sin and fully embodying the Will of God is known as the Arian Heresy, which, as preached by Bishop Arius, annoyed Bishop Nicholas to the point of "slapping" Arius--whether literally, or with a book or sermon so scathing that it got Nicholas banned from the council of bishops voting whether or not to excommunicate Arius, as unable to hear the debate and vote with an unbiased mind. But most Christians don't bother studying these things, and to them The Cyrene Conspiracy, which is about Amir's discovery of the theory that Simon of Cyrene not only carried Jesus' cross but was crucified on it, may be new and shocking.

It is fiction but, as Kaden explains, it's written in aid of the people of Gaza. In order to investigate the parchment Amir doesn't go to a church or university library and study its history; he takes the parchment right back to the Middle East, where he meets some kind Christian priests and rescue workers, and a liberated modern Arab young lady whose fiance left her because he couldn't distract her from relief work in Gaza. He meets a woman who's been trying to nurse a baby, but her milk has failed due to starvation, and people with arms and legs blown off, and the familiar gallery of casualties of Modern War. He feels left out of conversations among Palestinians because they all introduce themselves to new acquaintances with tallies of the relatives they've lost, many of whom were women and children.

And he finds a ruined church where an heretical Christian sect seem to have met, centuries ago. He recognizes artistic motifs that lead him to begin to research the Manichaean Christian sect, of which the most thorough surviving descriptions were written by Augustine of Hippo after he left the group, and may have been written with prejudice. Exactly who the prophet Mani was, when and where he lived or died, and what he taught, may never be known but the woman Amir starts to fall in love with seems to see him as an intermediary link between Christian and Muslim thinking. In the ruined church his name appears under those of Jesus and Mary Magdalene. Could he have been their son--or "spiritual son," a student--or in either sense their descendant? 

Muslims, like Christians, belong to different denominations. From the news media most Americans have heard that Sunnis were seen as more liberal than Shiites in some ways, but Sunnis persecuted Shiites, which doesn't sound so liberal. (That was only in Iran. The Sunni Muslims from India whom I've known were not inclined to persecute anybody, though they did accept that their leaders had a right to punish heretics against their religion: "Oh yes, if Salman Rushdie really did blaspheme and defame the Prophet, then of course he will have to die.") More recently we've heard of hard-line Wahhabis who take various phrases from the Koran more literally than most Muslims do. 

Relatively few Americans have heard of the Sufis, a liberal Muslim group who seemed to me, when I met them in Washington, to be trying to bridge the gaps between Islam and other religions toward the goal of converting everyone to a liberal, freethinking, New Agey form of Islam. In The Cyrene Conspiracy the heroine doesn't identify as a Sufi in so many words, but she seems close to being one. Sufis are, in my experience, profoundly likable people; they hate nobody, they invite Jews as well as Christians and Buddhists to chant and pray with them, they do not noticeably even disparage women even to the extent the Koran does. Some now say that their niceness is deployed by the evil, power-seeking Muslim political machine as a form of taqiyya, legitimized lying to gain social acceptability as a step toward political power. Those people probably also think the kind old priest in your neighborhood, the nice ladies at the Catholic school fundraising events, and President Kennedy were mere tools being used to restore the Papacy in the United States. Nice people and the nice things they do are sometimes exploited, but they are nice

The kind Christians Amir meets in Gaza are, of course, liberal and humanitarian people too. The Jews, on the other hand...There have been, in historical fact, Jews who volunteered to serve as bodyguards, blockades, and even hostages for their Palestinian neighbors in some past conflicts between Gaza and Israel. They said that human beings are human beings, however misguided, even hateful, some of them may be. That was before October 2022.

I did not write the Bible and have wondered, myself, why even before Moses' time people in the Old Testament treated rape as worse than murder. I can see why people emotionally feel that killing a baby is worse than killing a man, and I completely agree that a rapist has no reason to live, but if killing the murderer himself was enough of a deterrent to murder, why was it felt necessary to kill all the men in a rapist's tribe or town? Of course, Susan Brownmiller theorized that the perversion of sexuality that makes rape possible has to be a societal evil. That argument was credible and well argued, though not everyone is convinced that it's true. It does not sound like an argument Semitic tribesmen before Moses' time would have made. They seem to have seen rape as a peculiarly evil sin, not even so much against the victim as against the God of Life itself, that needed to be "put away from among you." Moses limited victims' families to demanding the execution of the rapist himself, Deborah celebrated that a woman was willing to stop with killing a war chief who was known to allow his army to rape other tribes' women, and David certainly had cause to encourage Absalom to stop with killing Ammon, but in the only other instance recorded in the Bible, where a gang of Benjamite youths raped a nameless and status-less woman, the other tribes joined in the slaughter of all the then able-bodied male adults in the tribe of Benjamin. Why? Because, as a crime, rape was seen as going beyond murder and needing to be punished accordingly. Murder can be, in the ancient world it probably often was, a crime of carelessness or emotionality. Rape has a blasphemous quality that some murders share, but most do not.

In October 2022 the men in the ruling party Gaza chose for itself raped Jewish women and murdered Jewish babies, and a great number of people, worldwide, said: "Let Gaza suffer whatever anyone in Israel cares to do to them," at least "...until the men who committed this crime are dead, buried under layers of dung and carrion, disowned by as many of their families as want to live." The result was Modern War. Even supporters of Israel asked, as did this web site: Really, Mr. Netanyahu, primary schools? And were told: Gazans have built their primary schools above tunnels where the evildoers are known to hide; therefore. That's Modern War. The only way to win a war against things that long ago ceased to be human is not to treat them like human beings again, even if they have taken human beings as hostages.

I believe there are alternatives, difficult and costly as they may be. Afghanistan had already been reduced to a desert before the US went in, but we could have gone as policemen and killed only known terrorists. (Actually I think, mostly, our army tried to do that.) The whole Middle East is already pretty much a desert, but Israel could have limited its violence to the Hamas goons. Maybe they tried. I am not the judge. I am a Christian reflecting on recent events from a religious and philosophical point of view.

Legitimate police work, finding and punishing violent criminals, can sometimes do a certain amount of collateral damage. In the US our big news story for this whole year has been how we had an unsustainable number of illegal immigrants who were contributing nothing good to society, from fraudulent recipients of business grants (who made a good snarky news story) to the usual drug dealers and violent fugitives from justice, and we as a nation said to all these people: Go home! And despite all the publicity given to armed federal agents arresting and deporting these immigrants, masses of them just peaceably recognized that their time was up, and left the US. And others chose to force our government to send armed men after them, and certain people who hardly deserved to be US citizens got in the way, and we had cases like that wretched woman screaming to her driver to run the car over a federal agent who, feeling threatened, shot the woman; and nobody who walks on US streets can blame him. In the same way, if Gazans support Hamas and interfere with the legitimate effort to punish the violence of October 2022, even most Arabs seem to think that missing legs and hungry babies are inevitable.

In The Cyrene Conspiracy, Amir realizes that he's going to have a very hard time staying near the woman he obviously wants to be near. He sympathizes too much with Palestinians. As an American he can't resist yelling "Leave them alone!" and otherwise interfering with Israeli military police who swagger around putting Palestinians in their place. He tries to tell himself that these Israelis--all the Israelis he meets seem hostile--are dealing with their own war zone emotional issues, but then he hears one with an American accent, determines that this particular Israeli soldier comes from Brooklyn, and tells the man off as if they were back in New York City. He realizes that the Israeli police are likely to leave an American visitor alone and then punish his local friends. He can't help it. Amir is a rich young man who grew up in the US. Self-control has not been a major subject in his education, as it has for his friends in the Middle East.

So, back in the US (readers will find out for themselves how the characters' relationships go), Amir writes a novel in which the characters conclude that Simon of Cyrene died in Jesus' place, and Jesus and Mary Magdalene became not the teachers or even the great-great-grandparents but the parents of Mani. It sells well. It seems to remind some American Christians that good relations with the children of Abraham involves good relations with the children of Ishmael too. Then a quiet, fanatical scholar he's met a few times in the course of his research breaks into his apartment and his computer, babbling about sacrificing red heifers to bring about the ultimate conflict with the Muslim world...There will be a sequel. Probably a series.

The Old Testament itself tells us that it's a mistake to take prophetic texts too literally. In Hebrew more than in other languages, most words may suggest visual images, which may or may not literally have anything to do with the fulfilment of the prophecy. Jesus is the Lion of Judah, the greatest and strongest of all the leaders foretold to come out of that tribe; he is not a wild animal with claws and a tail and a foul odor. Abraham's "children" are like the sands of the sea in number; not in size or color or consistency. A red heifer without white spots, like the virgin bride who was to conceive (people would have imagined) in the moment of losing her virginity, is rare but natural; whether God promised to do anything special when a red heifer was literally sacrificed, or when people's dedication reached a level that is rare but natural, remains to be learned. 

The Bible does not promise that Christians will never be forced into war, or forced to choose between warfare and abuse. It does teach us that we are not to choose war with any child of Abraham. For all practical purposes we might as well read "with any one." The children of Abraham include Jews who trace their physical descent to Isaac, Christians who are adoptive heirs of Isaac, Arabs who trace their physical descent to Ishmael, non-Arab Muslims who are adoptive heirs of Ishmael, and the descendants of Keturah, which seems to include most of Africa and India. Cases have been made for the claim that "Red" Russians, who rejected Christianity, were also physical descendants of Isaac through "Red" Esau/Edom and that at least some northern European and indigenous American groups were physical descendants of the scattered tribes of Israel. The Bible does say that God will bless those who bless a child of Abraham, and curse those who curse one. This is probably best interpreted as telling us that we should bless rather than curse all nations.  Egyptians were not Ishmaelites in Bible days but now, having become Muslims, they too should be blessed and not cursed.

What may come as surprising news to some American Christians is that Christianity did not originate in Rome or Ireland. Christianity came from the Middle East. The first Christians were Jews; the Christian message reached other Semitic tribes before it reached European tribes. There were and there still are Christian groups that never had much contact with Rome, that understand the teachings of Moses and Jesus differently due to not having had them filtered through the teachings of Augustine or Aquinas or, in some cases, even Paul. There are Christians who understand resurrection in terms of reincarnation, and accept some of those Lost Books of the  Bible as sacred scriptures, and imagine Jesus laughing at the idea that people thought they were crucifying him rather than weeping for the suffering of someone else who was crucified in his place, and all kinds of things that mainstream churches teach us not to  believe. There are schools of Christian thought that are close to Muslim thought on some points. 

Are these minority Christian groups right? Well...most of the major heresies and Lost Books of the Bible were pushed out of the mainstream, not by war, but by a consensus of people who had studied the Law and the Prophets and the Gospels, discussed these books and ideas, and found them incompatible with the canonical scriptures. Do they have a right to their beliefs? Of course they have.

Islam has been called, by Christian scholars and thinkers no less than C.S. Lewis, the greatest of all the Christian heresies. In the Quran and Hadith the difficult and mysterious parts of Christian doctrine are replaced with ideas easier to understand, and the complexities of ideas like "In Christ is neither male nor female" are replaced with ideas more popular at the time like "Since you [mortals] agree that some of you are of more value than others..." And also some teachings that Christians might want to forget have been preserved, even spelled out in detail: To prevent employers from delaying payment, taking risks with the money, and perhaps not paying employees at all, Muslim employers are specifically told to pay employees "while the sweat is on their faces." To prevent quibbling about a certain level of interest on debt, like the two-figure interest on credit card debt, being defined as usury, Muslims are told not to charge interest on debts at all; there can be flat fees on loans, but creditors are not allowed to make more money by making it harder for debtors to pay off debts. Every American has undoubtedly heard false friends warble that "A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you"; Muslims are told to defend their friends in battle and support their businesses in times of peace. We in the US have the right and duty to identify ourselves as a majority-Christian nation, enshrine Christian practices in our law, and deport anyone who wants to replace our constitutional system with sharia law. Nevertheless there are things we could benefit from learning from Muslims. 

We should not tolerate either the efforts some Muslims have made to impose sharia law over and above our own law, or the efforts some of their (weak and temporary) political allies have made to cover up those efforts. We should recognize that, if the Israelis deserve support and protection as children of Abraham, so do the Arabs, and most other nations; for the prophecy has been fulfilled that Abraham's heirs would be like the sands of the seas in numbers. Muslims who seek reconciliation with Christians should also seek reconciliation  with Jews...and I say the sooner the better. 

Not everyone has experienced the peace and good will of a Sufi prayer meeting. I have; The Cyrene Conspiracy recalled it to my mind, and I hope the book can bring something similar to all of your minds. May that peace and good will be with all of you, Gentle Readers.

Bad Poetry: A Fairy Tale Character

Explication below. First the poem:


[Photo from Disney Villains Wiki Fandom]

Ha ha ha ha! Ho ho ho ho!
I am the Villain, Jacques Lebeau!
Out trapping wildlife in the wood,
I found a dog, a very good
Sled dog, or hunting dog, or pet,
Or fighting dog that people bet
Will last five minutes with a bear
When forced a fighting ring to share.
I know where a young bear's asleep.
Around his den, my servant, creep
And set out meat that I have laced
With poison just enough to waste
The bear's strength so that you can haul
Him in to fight the dog, and all
The people who've come in to trade
To me will have their money paid
To watch the bear rip dog apart.
I have a chip of flint where heart
Would be if I were a real man;
I'm just part of a story's plan.
I drink as much as I can buy.
Some day soon I am sure to die;
No tear will fall from any eye,
And least of all regret will I.
I never heard in any text
A priest read, in this world or th'next,
Hope of good things for one like me.
I am a drunkard, don't you see.
My story in its first edition
Was written during Prohibition.
I've doped the dog, I've doped the bear,
So they'll feel fighting mad, and tear
Each other all to pieces, and
Then I'll get drunk. So I have planned
All winter long, around the fire,
Cursing my land, my luck, my sire--
But what is this that now I see?
The bear and dog are friends? Woe's me!
Can such a stroke of luck even be?--
And now the dog comes after me!

This week's Poets & Storytellers United prompt asked for poems from the point of view of a fairy tale character. 

Can anything new possibly be said about Cinderella, the Sleeping Beauty, or the Beauty and the Beast? 

I thought back to those old Disney movie souvenir books, and remembered that, when reviewers were sharing memories of fictional characters we didn't want to meet, I'd mentioned Jacques Lebeau as seeming like a fantasy character to me.

He was in a movie, acted out with real people and animals, about a brave Husky dog called Nikki who got separated from his humans when they were out in the woods. His humans were a father and son, both called Dupas; they had given names but they hardly came into the story. Winter was coming on. The dog stumbled about, having species-appropriate adventures, learning to survive. He made friends with Cree people (it was Disney, but the story was supposed to have happened in Quebec) and other animals, including a bear cub, Neewa. Then he smelled another French-Canadian's campfire and approached, but he soon realized he'd found a different kind of man. He was soon trapped by a man much nastier than the ones he'd known before. This was Jacques Lebeau, who figured that by keeping Nikki in a cage and treating him badly he could get Nikki to fight and make money off him. 

At the next big gathering, Lebeau tried to get Nikki to fight Neewa. Of course they acted like the old friends they were. Then he tried to get Nikki to fight Dupas. Of course that wasn't happening either. Nikki had missed Neewa and Dupas for months; being around both of them together, fighting was the last thing on his mind. So Lebeau tried to force the fight on which he was taking bets, threatening Dupas with a knife if Dupas didn't kick Nikki. Nikki, of course, surged out...to defend his human. In a Disney movie nice characters never kill nasty characters outright, so Lebeau just cringed away from Nikki in such a way that he fell on his own hunting knife. 

When I think about the story, I think that it might even have happened...but there was just something so Disney about it...and of course it is a Canadian variation on the classic fable of Androcles and the lion. 

Anyway. It's Sunday. This web site is supposed to bring you Christian content. So, although neither Disney nor twelve-step groups ever were exclusively for Christians as distinct from other people...We used to think that, in the case of genetic alcoholics, "First a man took a drink; then the drink took the man," and the alcoholic was just a dead loss to humankind. Now we know that it's possible for many alcoholics to transfer their addictions to fellowship with a group of other recovering addicts. Even Jacques Lebeau might have sobered up and come closer to being a decent human being if anyone had ever taken him to a twelve-step meeting.

People who take the twelve steps seriously are some of the most radical Christians, and most lovable human beings, in this world. 

Unfortunately Jacques Lebeau was just the villain of a fable, and the nicest thing anyone was ever destined to call him was "brutal Frenchman." 

Friday, September 11, 2026

Where Were You on This Day in 2001?

I was in "gorgeous" Prince Georges County, Maryland. It was a Tuesday. We had a Tuesday routine: drive up Route 1 to Laurel, stop and see a massage client, stop at some favorite stores, drive on to Columbia, change the library books, buy take-out meals on the mall, eat and walk around the Centennial Lake Park, stop at other favorite stores. It was an absolutely gorgeous day and I was looking forward to it. I called the massage client and heard, "I think I should cancel. I don't think you should come out today. Did you see the news? Somebody just crashed a plane into the World Trade Center."

"Was someone youall knew on the plane?" 

"I don't think so but they think it might have been some kind of act of war. We're all watching the news. We might want to get out of here."

I put down the phone and turned to my husband. "They don't even know who was on the plane, but they're all in mourning because a plane crashed in New York. Do you want to watch that on the news?"

"It'll be in the Post tomorrow. Let's go on as usual." I spent a lot of time at the library in Columbia because on Tuesdays my husband either took a continuing education course for tutors of disabled children, or tutored one of them, for a good part of the day. We loaded up the books we were taking back. It was not one of the days when I took the Practically Perfect Toshiba laptop. We stopped at the Amvets charity store, a very large store with a furniture showroom and some pay phones. In those days a local phone call cost a quarter, and long-distance calls could be made from a pay phone if you had a lot of coins to feed into it, by ones, or if you had a prepaid "calling card." I had a few of those cards in my pocket along with library cards and store membership cards and my Metrorail Farecard. I went into the store and browsed my way to the aisle where the yarn was, if they had any. They didn't. Behind that aisle was a glass pane enclosing the room with the TV, radio, and stereo sets. All of them were tuned to the news. 

By that time the second plane had hit the second tower and the third one had hit the Pentagon. The Pentagon was designed and built for security rather than as a show of hubris; the section of it that could be hit by the plane was a little-used storage section, but of course people had been on the plane, including Barbara Olson, an emerging author who'd become popular. 

I looked around and saw that I was one of a row of people staring at the row of TV sets. Some of them were making cell phone calls. English was not most of their first language--the Amvets store employed a lot of foreign-born military wives, and was the store where you couldn't always count on finding anyone who spoke even Spanish, but that was the attraction for other immigrants who spoke the other languages the staff used. I didn't yet have a cell phone so I power-walked to the front wall of the store and punched in the numbers from a "calling card." Mother needed to know that I was safe in rural Maryland and wouldn't come home unless civilians were evacuated, as in the Gulf War. So did Aunt Dotty. I didn't use up a lot of minutes but quite a long line had formed behind me when I put down the phone. I didn't buy anything.

"There were two more planes," I told my husband. "One of them hit the Pentagon. They think it's war."

"Don't panic," my husband said. People were rushing out of the store, with or without purchases, heading home to pack in case they had to evacuate. Since we had our separate homes outside the city, we didn't feel that urgent need to pack; I'd take the laptop, my knitting, and the new batch of library books I intended to check out, but clothes and toothbrushes were waiting at home. "We can go on with the day and hear the news tonight."

The library was closed; we dropped the books into the chute. We bought food, ate, and started walking around the lake as usual. About halfway around we met a couple of park rangers in an ATV. "We're sorry, but there was a fourth plane that crashed into a field. We don't know how many more planes these people may have hijacked. We're closing the park. Could you walk out with us please."

All the stores were closed. Outside a store a teenager was leaning on a wall, fiddling with a cell phone. "When I woke up," he felt a need to tell us, "I thought this was going to be the best day in America. I did not know it was going to be the worst day in America."

We went home and turned on the television. Months went by when nobody turned it on. That afternoon we sat in front of it, hoping for fresh news and not seeing any. "I see Stephanopoulos landed on his feet," my husband said, and I said, "Good for him. That takes care of the list of people I know in New York. You?"I was wrong, of course. A few friends and relatives had been there, and I hadn't heard. At least none of them was hurt in the fire. Everybody always knows a few people in New York City.

"I used to know lots of people in New York," my husband said. 

"Well that's the fifth time they've shown us that woman in the orange jacket, coughing," I said. "We can't do anything for those people but we could at least not watch them." 

"I can watch the little TV set upstairs," my husband said. "In case they start releasing names. I know it's early but I'd like to see the names."

I was starting to feel manipulated. The television set wasn't telling people anything new; only blaring fear, rage, and war. I thought the emotion might have been worth sitting through if the screen had been running a list of people known to have survived or not survived, but that was days away. The coughing woman was flashed on the screen in between images of children dancing in some Middle Eastern desert town. Could even Arabs have trained children to dance joyously, rather than angrily, in celebration of war? (Later we heard that they couldn't; what the children were celebrating was an annual town festival.) People who were normally in favor of peace were suddenly in favor of war. I did not want to be manipulated into supporting war, as were the people who'd always seemed civilized who were out on the streets, the next day, waving signs saying "Reduce Kabul to rubble." Clearly there would have to be some sort of reprisals. I hoped they could be done efficiently. Didn't we have firepower several hundred times greater than the Al-Qaeda fools had? Go in, get them out, and hang them high as Haman, I was praying our troops would do. No modern war. No blowing up hospitals, no incendiary bombs  dropped on babies. In 2001 baby-boomers' mental pictures of modern war included an old video of a little girl in Vietnam, running and screaming, her clothes burned away. She had survived, we'd been told. Not the kind of thing we wanted the young to see on the news.

News highlights of that evening included that generous Washingtonians had asked where to send the money, and embarrassed New Yorkers had declined offers of cash or blood, saying their city could take care of its own. I was glad. People would say awkwardly, off and on all winter, that they felt that "we were all New Yorkers or Washingtonians now," and I'd feel embarrassed for them. A lot of people had died; a lot of people were genuinely mourning. I felt something for them but I didn't think it would help to pretend that I, as a stranger, was feeling anything like their pain. I already knew what grief felt like. It was nice that people outside the family missed the person too, but trying to pretend they felt what the family felt merely made them sound stupid. 

Introverts do feel empathy, but those of us who haven't been taught that the empathy we feel is the "wrong" kind feel empathy for other introverts and express empathy as to other introverts. I felt no urge to hug strangers. I murmured soothingly, a few times, when massage clients found that relaxation released tears of real grief. 

Bland rich-boy W Bush suddenly became a trigger for intense emotions. In Washington we heard some things people in "the heartland" didn't hear. I heard W proclaiming that "they hate us because we are free," saw him signing the loathsome "P.A.T.R.I.O.T. Act" (a law that violates everyone's right to privacy), thought he was a hypocrite in the service of the Evil Principle. I went home and heard people saying that he certainly had become a target but they thought he was coping rather well. Yes, Sir. Yes, Ma'am. Whatever. Saying what I thought of W Bush at the time would have been treason. Twenty-five years later I don't know what W was thinking or why he let enemies of the people have the P.A.T.R.I.O.T. Act, but I still want to see it extirpated from our law. I don't think Trump, or Cruz, or Vance, or Rubio, is the man to do that. Musk has the courage but not the ability to understand why it needs to be done. Massie, DeSantis, and Kennedy together might have enough fortitude and intelligence to do it. Maybe.

My husband listened to the "they hate us because we are free" speech and growled, "Yes, and there's a little matter of our support for Israel against the Palestinians. What about that?" I had no foreign policy. I said, "Hasn't he got the 'blond' act down, though!" 

I'll say this, now, with hindsight. If you or your family are involved with the oil industry, you know Arab-type people and you know Israeli-type people. You might know a few young ones as nephews, nieces, or cousins, on both sides. This causes acute ambivalence when conflicts among the Semitic nations are mentioned. I think W Bush  sincerely felt, as I did, that sense of "I hope this war won't harm my Arab-type friends who really are people of peace--not even defining peace as  'our nation dominant over yours'." It was not a question of loyalty. Bin Laden obviously needed what he eventually got, only maybe in an even more humiliating way; his goons needed to be locked up with a metal key, have the key recycled, and find out whether anybody cared to kick a bottle of water under the door. That had nothing to do with Halla or Feitan or Farouk or anyone else we knew. Most people in Washington in 2001, if they weren't bigots, had Muslim friends. I had an adoptive brother who had rallied the whole Islamic Centre crowd to support my business, and had often said, when asked why I didn't attend any church regularly, that the kind of fellowship that would justify attending church on a day of rest was something I'd only found among Muslims--their sex-phobic culture has encouraged them to take sex-free friendship very seriously--but I was still a Christian.

Anyway...nobody was asked to flee the city, as in the Gulf War, and I was glad. "Show no fear" was the order of the day. Tourists, however, did stop coming to Washington. The city seemed oddly vacant without them. You did not, in fact, hear a visitor squeal with surprise the first time the farecard machine sucked the card out of their hands, scanned it, and stamped the remaining value on it, every day. You did not think of that as something you'd ever miss...but early in the spring, when I finally heard that sound again, I was surprised by how much I'd missed it. 

W Bush had proposed, unsatisfactorily, that we could "be tourists in our own town," which showed it wasn't his town. His money came from oil. A lot of people's money came from our city's very own economy, which dived down in 2001. Cartoonists, at least, had fun with the idea of spending money to boost the economy. "What did you do in the Gulf War, Daddy?"--"I charged!"I paid cash, and that winter I didn't have much of it.

Scattered through the city were people going through real grief. Everyone was trying to respect those people and their feelings. I suppose I still am. I shed a few tears when I met the people who'd lost parents or children on those planes. Mostly I felt tired of the endless emoting in what passed for the news media, and the way it was being manipulated to drum up support for "modern war," and the grief piled on grief as the Post started to report young people being injured or killed in the war.

What I lost twenty-five years ago, what all of us lost, was a substantial chunk of our natural pre-constitutional right to privacy. We need to be demanding that back, while we still can.

The fire fighters running into the burning, crumbling buildings, to remove injured people if they found any alive...I think the best thing W said about the whole war was that we could direct some of the emotion toward supporting and encouraging fire fighters. That, at least, is a good thing. Most people are not built to be professional firemen or police officers but all of us could benefit from some training to be able to cope with emergencies when they are not available. All of us could appreciate the special skills and training the professionals have. 

Where were you on this day in 2001?