African crawling cooties . . . nasty little things!

Westerners who visit Africa, particularly the off-the-beaten-track parts of Africa, often have little or no idea of the dangers involved.  Some are obvious:  war, terrorism, predatory animals, etc.  Others, such as disease, organisms, etc. are less so - but they're no less dangerous.  I was reminded of one such organism by this news report.

A British man nearly died after a parasite crawled up his penis and started laying eggs after he went for a swim in Lake Malawi in southeast Africa during a "holiday of a lifetime" with pals.

. . .

A week before Christmas he was diagnosed with schistosomiasis, an infection that's caused by a parasitic worm that lives in fresh water in tropical regions. It's most commonly found throughout Africa.

Once in the body, the worms move through the blood to areas such as the liver and bowel. After a few weeks, they start to lay eggs.

Some eggs remain inside the body and are attacked by the immune system. If it's left untreated it could have severe consequences.

There's more at the link.

I've had bilharzia.  It's no fun at all.  You can get it almost anywhere in Africa, and many of us who were born and raised there have endured its attentions.  I've also had delightful encounters with things like Lassa fever (which is, in essence, an entry-level form of Ebola), malaria and a few other nasties, all of which, I'm glad to say, were cured before they finished me off.

That had amusing consequences when I moved to this country.  I'd been a blood donor in South Africa, where (since so many have had these diseases and others) they'll accept almost anyone's blood and screen for whatever they need to keep out.  The USA is a bit more picky.  When I showed them my ten-gallon card, or whatever the high-number ID is, they got very excited;  but when I told them I was from Africa, it was as if I was suddenly a walking, talking plague vector.  Their attitude can be summed up as "AAAAAHHH!  African blood cooties!"  I was summarily informed that I could never donate blood in the USA, because I had antibodies in my blood that were powerful enough to spread infections to recipients without them, even though they wouldn't cause any difficulty in Africa (where almost everybody has them, in the trickier parts of the continent).

Moral of the story (and this is only partly in jest):  if you go swimming in a bilharzia-infected stream, wear a condom!




Peter

"So what can I, personally, do about this mess?"

That's a question I'm being asked more and more, as the dismally partisan, sectarian and one-sided impeachment proceedings play out in Congress;  as crisis after crisis (our all-too-porous borders, homelessness, the economy, etc.) grabs the headlines;  as people feel more and more powerless to actually change the rot that they see all around them in our society.  "What can I, personally, do to change it?"

I think there are several things one can do:  but they all have to begin with accepting the situation as it is, and ourselves as we are.  It's no good saying, "Things should be this way" when they're not.  It's no good saying, "I won't stand for that!" when the cold, hard reality is that you have no choice but to stand for that, because it's out of your control.  It's all very well to talk wildly about shooting those who won't change/move/adapt/adjust/comply/whatever, but the reality is that they'll shoot back;  the legal system will come after you as the perpetrator of a crime;  and your facile, simplistic "solution" isn't worth the air you've just wasted on expressing it.

Reality, folks.  We've got to be rooted in and founded on reality if we're to make a difference . . . and far too many people today are not.

I submit the first step is for each of us to accept that I, as an individual, am flawed.  I don't have everything right;  I'm not the shining example I present myself as being;  I have feet of clay.  We can approach this in the light of an ethical or moral framework, or a religious one, or a philosophical perspective - whatever background we choose.  Whatever that may be, we have to come to the realization that the problem begins with me.  I have to get myself at least basically in order, before I can expect to help others do the same with the problem(s) confronting us.

The second step is to accept that not all problems are within our power to solve.  Reinhold Niebuhr's so-called 'Serenity Prayer' reads, "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change;  courage to change the things I can;  and wisdom to know the difference."  That's a good start.  Many of the problems our society faces cannot be solved by any one person, or even by a decent-sized group of people.  Many of them are caused and/or worsened by people with opposing ideologies, facing off over an issue and refusing to compromise.

The southern border is a good example.  Those who value law and order (including yours truly) protest their wholesale violation on the border.  Those who prioritize humanitarian considerations over law and order regard the law-and-order crowd as evil, hate-filled, unfeeling, uncaring.  That's not about to change, and no matter how much we may try to impose a solution from one perspective or the other, there will always be those who try to undermine our "solution" and/or replace it with their own version - which we'll do our best to undermine in our turn.  Homelessness, drug addiction, the right to keep and bear arms, whatever problem you like - the same dilemma arises.  The irresistible force meets the immovable object, and neither will give way.

So what do we do about such issues?  I submit there are four practical things any individual can do:

1. Educate oneself about the issues involved, and make sure one has an accurate and sufficiently detailed understanding of the reality of the situation.  "Going off half-cocked" doesn't only apply to firearms.
2. Ally oneself with those of like mind, and seek to be a leavening, uplifting influence in that alliance.  Look to raise everyone's understanding to the highest common factor, rather than let it degenerate to the lowest common denominator.  Individuals and groups should strive to be better balanced, better educated, better intentioned, and better qualified than their opposition.
3. Seek to educate, rather than intimidate or dominate.  Sure, there will be those on both sides who use histrionics, emotion and pressure to try to get their way;  but there will also be those who are open to persuasion.  Seek them out.  Look for opportunities to present the facts of the matter, rather than one's opinion, and let those facts speak for themselves.  (And, when they present the facts as they see them, don't dismiss them out of hand.  Who knows?  They might have at least some right on their side, too!)
4. Stand firm on the essential principles underlying the issue, but compromise in less important matters where necessary.  This means being flexible in areas where that can be done without violating those issues.  You want strict law and order enforced at the border?  OK - but what about helping genuine refugees?  They're out there.  What about temporary worker visas, to help farmers get in their crops, something they say they can't do without migrant labor?  To get what we want in one area, we'll have to compromise in others.  Why not do that?

I can already hear some of my readers complaining, "But, Peter, you're being utopian!  The real world isn't like that!  We've tried all that, and it hasn't worked - so it's time to get as hard-line as our opponents, and stop them in their tracks!"  To that I can only answer, "Are you sure you've tried that?"  I've seen plenty of intransigence, aggression, power plays and demagoguery from individuals and groups on both sides.  We're too prone to jump to absolutes.  "If you're not for us, you're against us!"  "If you won't take up arms to defend these absolutes, you're no friend of freedom!"

How many of you remember this famous statement?

"I would remind you that extremism in the defense of liberty is no vice! And let me remind you also that moderation in the pursuit of justice is no virtue."

Who defines "extremism", "liberty", "vice",  "moderation", "justice" and "virtue"?  If we arrogate to ourselves the right to define such things, what if our opponents do the same?

Finally, let me say that my biggest fear is those who too quickly jump to conclusions, or are too ready to "go to the mattresses" and fight it out.  Friends, I've seen the result of that in at least seven nations.  I was there in the middle of it in three of them, and I saw the aftermath in four of them.  I daresay I've seen, with my own two eyes, literally thousands of dead bodies, maimed victims, physically and mentally injured and scarred survivors.  When extremes collide, there may be a 'victor', but both sides in an internal conflict are usually so deeply wounded by their clash that the nation as a whole never recovers, or takes generations to do so.  Examples:

• I said in 1994, when South Africa held its first truly democratic election, that it would take at least two generations for that country to work through the problems apartheid left behind, and heal from those wounds.  It's now just entered the second of those generations - and it's a mess.  I see no reason to change my forecast.
• In Rwanda, where hundreds of thousands of Tutsi tribespeople were slaughtered by Hutus (also in 1994), the country is still torn by the hatred and dissent engendered by the massacres.  Hundreds of thousands of its citizens still live in refugee camps in the Congo, rather than return home.
• Look at East and West Germany, now united, but with a distinct regional identity where the two former countries had been - and residual bitterness in the East about the way in which the more affluent West "took over".
• For that matter, look at those who perpetuate the "Lost Cause" myth about the American Civil War, and still try to insist that slavery was not the prime cause of that conflict.  There are so many facts and historical references that the truth is incontrovertible - but they still try to argue.  They won't give up their dream of what they think Southern society was like.

There are some things on which I will take a firmly principled stand.  For example, I will not submit to anyone seeking to take away my right to keep and bear arms.  That's not negotiable.  However, as the Supreme Court has pointed out more than once, regulation of such a right is entirely legal, so long as it doesn't become so draconian as to infringe on the right itself.  That's a gray area, and I'll do well to remember that, and not jump to absolutist conclusions (or actions) unless and until that's fully justified.  The same goes for all the rest of the Bill of Rights, and for the fundamental moral code I have chosen to follow.  I will not allow someone to force me to violate that, even if they pass a law to that effect;  and, yes, that's a position I will defend by any means necessary.  However, I have to accept that those who disagree with me also have the same right to their own positions.  I can't impose mine on them, and they can't impose theirs on me.  It's a two-way street.

During my active days as a pastor, I was often asked to counsel couples having difficulties in their marriage.  A frequent complaint from one or both parties was, "I'm not getting what I expected/needed/wanted out of my marriage."  My instant response was always, "Well, what are you putting into your marriage?"  The Biblical standards are tried and tested.  "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."  "As you sow, so shall you reap."

One can't help but notice that most political discourse these days seems to ignore those basic human realities.  That's tragic in many ways . . . but we don't have to let the intransigence of others define our response.  We can, and should, try to be better than that.  If we behave no better than those whose behavior we despise, what does that say about us?  So, when it comes to political discourse, what are we putting into the debate?  If our remarks, attitudes and actions are as hard-line, inflammatory and extremist as the worst of our political foes, how can we claim the moral high ground?  We've made ourselves no better than they are.

Tragically, the pressures on our overcrowded, debt-ridden, pressurized society are leading to more and more rigidity and extremism on all sides.  The acronym TINVOWOOT is heard more and more often, and many have already made the decision to resist, rather than try to contribute to a democratic solution.  I fear the consequences of such radicalization, because I've seen them before:  and therefore I'll work as hard as I can to be a voice of reason, as long as that's possible.  I have little confidence that those of us trying to do that will succeed in changing anyone's mind . . . but that doesn't mean it's not worthwhile to try.

I'm sure I haven't satisfied many of my readers with this essay.  I'm sorry about that;  but I can only give you my perspective on life, the universe and everything, as conditioned by many years of (sometimes pretty brutal) experience, and my moral outlook.  I hope it gives you food for thought, if nothing else.

Peter

The homeless crisis and what it portends

In a recent interview, Doug Casey offers his perspective on the explosion of homelessness in parts of this country, and what it means.  He doesn't mince his words.

I see it as part of the continuing decline of Western civilization.

The West has always been distinguished relative to the rest of the world by its order, its cleanliness, its respect for property rights. These things are all going by the wayside. We were a middle class society with “bourgeois” values, essentially Boy Scout virtues. But these things are now held in contempt, even while the middle class is being squeezed. “Ground between the millstones of taxation and inflation,” as the phrase attributed to Lenin puts it.

Some members of the lower and middle classes are still moving up, but it’s easier to fall than to rise. Most of the homeless are whites who are headed down. We haven’t seen this since the 1930s.

This epidemic is concentrated in so-called sanctuary cities, which go out of their way to bring in people who are unwilling or unable to support themselves. But most of the newly minted “street people” aren’t migrants. They seem to mostly be failed ex-members of the middle class.

. . .

Cleaning up after these people isn’t a solution. It’s cosmetic, at best.

What we have are thousands on the streets who produce nothing, and only consume. They survive on food stamps, various welfare programs, handouts, petty theft, and the like. In other words, they’re not an asset either to themselves or to society. They’re an active liability, and they’re actually encouraged by being allowed to group together on other people’s property.

Will cleaning up after them solve the problem? No, it aggravates it.

It’s now an epidemic. It started in 2008 when lots of middle-class people lost their houses. And oddly, the trend toward people living on the street has been growing over the last 10 years of artificial boom.

We’re going to have a very real bust very soon. The high levels of debt that we have today have allowed the whole country to live above its means. When the economy adjusts to lower levels of consumption, a new avalanche of people will lose their jobs, and they’ll have no savings to fall back on. However, their debts will remain and keep them from getting back up.

. . .

This is an explosive problem. These are people who will have nothing to lose. They’re going to be overcome by envy of and resentment against the rich. You can count on them to vote Democratic in 2020. There’s no question the state of the economy will be by far the biggest influence in the election.

All the while, because of the financialization of the economy, the rich are getting richer. This isn’t just unfair—it’s dangerous. Incidentally, “unfair” is a word I hate to use, because it often implies a whole set of assumptions. But that’s another topic. Anyway, the situation is setting up the United States for class warfare, the haves against the have-nots. Middle class societies are stable; we’re becoming less middle class.

. . .

It’s another sign that the state of civilization in the United States is changing radically. So far it’s been a slow slide down. But when the economy falls apart this time, it’s going to look like we’ve fallen off a cliff. We’re going to have to adjust to a whole new reality politically, socially, and economically. I’m not looking forward to it.

There's more at the link.

Mr. Casey's comments reminded me of our earlier discussions in these pages about homelessness.  He's quite right about the problem being concentrated in cities that welcome and subsidize the homeless.  Almost all of those cities, as far as I know, have Democratic Party administrations.  Is it possible that they see homelessness as a way to ensure their political domination for years to come, by cultivating a "crop" of voters who are guaranteed to support the party that gives them the biggest handouts?  Is this a deliberate political tactic?  I have no idea, but I'll leave it to you to make up your own mind.

As for "class warfare", sadly, yes, that's happening right now.  Just look at the clash inside the Democratic Party between hard-left and centrist voices.  So far, the hard left is winning handily, and looks set fair to dominate the party for years to come.  They're going to become the party of agitprop.  Some of their current Presidential candidates are already mouthpieces for agitprop.  That doesn't bode well for their party, or for democracy.

The problem is, money can never solve the problem of homelessness, just as it can never solve the problem of crime.  One has to change the person inwardly - a true conversion.  That's come to be seen as a religious perspective, but it applies equally well to any transformation of a human life.  Unless the homeless regain some sense of self, of personal value, of pride, they have no motivation to improve their lot in life.  Unless they see a way up, they'll stay down.  Why shouldn't they?  Money can't provide that for them.  It has to come from within themselves, a desire to change.  Most of the homeless I've met don't appear to have that.

I've heard suggestions that we should resurrect something like the Works Progress Administration of the Great Depression era, but this time on a compulsory basis, forcing the homeless to work for their daily bread.  I've even heard religion advanced in support of this proposal ("If anyone will not work, neither shall he eat").  I don't see that working.  Homelessness is not a crime;  therefore, one can't "punish" the homeless by forcing them into what would be, in effect, a sentence of confinement, of loss of freedom.  If we do that, we take away one of their most fundamental rights - and if we do that to one class in society, how long can it be before it's extended to other classes, possibly including our own?

I don't think we'll find a solution for homelessness on a national level.  I think it's up to local communities to do what they can, in their own local circumstances, to deal with it as humanely as possible.  However, I do believe very strongly (and I've said before in these pages) that subsidizing homelessness, by throwing money at the problem, is not the way to go.  As the late President Reagan said, "If you want more of something, subsidize it; if you want less of something, tax it."  Throwing money at homelessness is effectively a subsidy.  It will solve nothing.  If it were a solution, how is it that the billions we spend on the problem as a nation have so far produced nothing except more and more homeless people?

Peter

Hong Kong: totalitarianism triumphs, democracy dies

What we've seen in Hong Kong over the past couple of days has been coming for some months.  It's been inevitable, and now it's happening.  I don't envy the student activists who are now trapped in the university there.  They're either going to disappear into Chinese detention camps, or they're going to die there.  They have no other options left.

Hong Kong police have fought running battles with protesters trying to break through a security cordon around a university in the city, firing teargas at anyone trying to leave.

Polytechnic University, a sprawling campus that has been occupied by demonstrators since last week, has become the scene of the most prolonged and tense confrontation between police and protesters in more than five months of political unrest.

Hundreds were still trapped inside on Monday, after overnight clashes during which protesters launched petrol bombs and shot arrows at police who threatened to use live rounds.

. . .

The People’s Daily, the official mouthpiece of the Chinese Communist party, published an editorial on its front page saying there was no room for compromise: “What we are facing today is a struggle between safeguarding ‘one country, two systems’ and destroying it.

“On an issue involving national sovereignty and the future of Hong Kong, there is no middle ground and absolutely no room for compromise.”

Hong Kong is experiencing its most serious political crisis in decades after the government attempted to push through a controversial extradition bill that would have allowed suspects to be sent to mainland China, seen by many as another move to extend Beijing’s control over the city.

Protests over the now withdrawn bill pose a direct challenge to China, which governs Hong Kong under the “one country, two systems” framework.

There's more at the link.

I find the relative lack of coverage of this crisis in the US news media to be damning in its deafening silence.  They're all kowtowing to Beijing's financial influence.  The Washington Post's slogan, since the election of President Trump, is "Democracy dies in darkness".  That's precisely what's happening to democracy in Hong Kong right now, as you read these words . . . and the Washington Post and its competitors are aiding the darkness to kill it (even if only passively, through their deliberately understated reporting), because they've been bought off by the allure of Chinese money.

I've seen this in several nations before (and when I say "seen it", I mean I've been there and watched protestors killed).  I saw it in South Africa in 1976 and subsequent years.  I've seen it in Zimbabwe.  I've seen it in Congo.  I've seen it in West Africa.  It may have differed in detail from what's going on in Hong Kong right now, but the essentials of the conflict remain the same.  Those in power are determined to hold onto it at any cost, no matter how great.  Those who are shut out of power are protesting, demanding a greater say in their own future.  They won't be allowed to get it, because any crumbling of the facade of power will only encourage others who want the same thing in different areas.

China cannot - dare not - risk rebellion breaking out in other provinces.  It'll gladly perpetrate another Tiananmen Square massacre rather than submit to the protestor's demands.

When Britain gave Hong Kong back to China, due to the expiration of the 99-year lease it held over the New Territories (making the remaining tiny scrap of land it held there untenable, because it would have lost almost all its workforce and economic activity across the newly extended Chinese border), it concluded a treaty with China guaranteeing "one country, two systems".  The democratic nature of government in Hong Kong was supposedly guaranteed, with the rights of its citizens (far more extensive than those in the communist mainland) protected.  Well, that's lasted about two decades . . . but now it's over.  China cannot and will not tolerate two systems if that poses a threat to the dominance and control of the Communist Party over the people.

We are watching the death of democracy in Hong Kong.  What's left, when all this is over, will be nothing more than a hollow shell, a public relations sham that they call "democracy" but which is, in fact, totalitarian.

We should learn from Hong Kong's death throes, and be on the watch against the efforts of the radical and progressive left in the United States to control our thoughts, words and deeds.  That, in essence, is exactly what Communism is all about.  If we tolerate its methods here, they will inevitably lead to the same fate for our constitutional republic, unless we are constantly vigilant and prepared to defend it.

Peter

Sunday morning music

Now and again, a musical performance comes along that makes me laugh out loud.  This morning's offering did just that.  What happens when a baroque percussion ensemble meets AC/DC?  Listen for yourself, and find out!

I think that must have been an absolute hoot for the musicians.  Full marks!

Peter

Saturday snippet: the perils of trail driving Texas longhorns

As part of writing the Western novels in my "Ames Archives" series, I spend a fair amount of time and money looking up original sources, written accounts of the Old West from people who were there and lived its reality.  (Recently, in this series, we heard from famed scout Billy Dixon about the Second Battle of Adobe Walls, which sparked the Red River War of 1874-75.)

One of the scariest events for a cowhand was a stampede by the herd.  It could be sparked by almost anything:  the scent or a glimpse of a predator such as a wolf, bad weather, a rattlesnake's warning buzz, or the eruption of a bird from a bush or a clump of grass beneath a steer's feet.  Stampedes were a routine, expected occupational hazard on the journey from Texas to Kansas and beyond, and a herd might endure literally dozens of them before arriving at its destination.  (One infamous herd experienced well over 30, and lost 90% of its cattle before reaching the railhead.  The owner went bankrupt.)

Stampedes were deadly dangerous to the cowhands who had to stop them.  In the fourth Ames novel, as yet unnamed, I've written about a typical stampede, drawing on the historical records in my possession.  What you are about to read is fiction, but it's nevertheless very true to life, and dovetails precisely with actual accounts.  It may as well be fact, from that perspective.  It brings a sobering dose of reality to the often romanticized job of a cowhand.

     As the afternoon drew on, ugly, angry thunderheads began to brew in the sky, soaring higher as they watched. The bright sunlight faded fast as the clouds turned gray and heavy, lightning flickering among their crowns.
     Lee Jarvis, trail boss of this herd, rode up to Tyler, shaking his head. “Don’t like the look o’ this one lil bit. We got a big thunderstorm comin’. The cattle are already sensin’ it, and they’re gettin’ spooked. I reckon I’m gonna set camp a couple miles clear o’ the herd tonight, just in case, and double the night herd riders.”
     “Good idea. Draw on the floating outfit for that, too. We’ll help.”
     “I’ll be glad of it. Thanks.”
     As they made camp, without having to be told, the teamsters pulled all the wagons, including Tyler’s chuckwagon, into a defensive circle, as if expecting an attack by Indians. The teams were watered at a nearby stream, then led inside the circle, which was roped closed behind them. The wagons could not move without them, so they had to be prevented from stampeding, no matter how wild the weather might become.
     The cooks prepared a meal in haste. It was less appetizing than their normal fare, but that was understandable given the need to get everyone fed before the storm broke. No-one complained.
     After supper, the hands would normally have gone to sleep. Not so this night. Nobody took their bedrolls from the wagons. Instead, they stood around, staring out at the grasslands illuminated by sudden flashes of lightning. They smoked cigarettes and sipped at mugs of coffee, their wordless tension almost palpable. Some changed the night horses they had selected – animals that remained saddled, with loosened girths, during the dark hours, to be available as quickly as possible if needed. Tyler noted that they were choosing bigger, stronger horses, more likely to keep their feet if they were buffeted by other horses or cattle.
     Suddenly, just after ten, the storm broke. A forked bolt of lighting speared out of the sky and hit the earth less than half a mile from the herd. A split-second later, a deafening clap of thunder battered their ears. As the first raindrops fell, fat and pregnant with menace, there came a low rumble, growing in intensity almost by the second. The ground shook. Everybody knew what it meant. Even as Tyler yelled, “All hands! STAMPEDE!”, they were running for their night horses, tightening the girths, vaulting into the saddle, and turning them towards the herd. The teamsters rushed to the roped-off gaps between the wagons and stood by with their bullwhips, ready to turn back any attempt by the teams to escape their confinement. The scared oxen and horses surged against the wagons, rocking them, but could not break through.
     The lightning flashes were coming often enough that the riders could see the herd as if in flickering, momentary images, heading south at a dead run. Their massed hooves pounded out a deadly drumroll of destruction for everything in their path. They might keep going for hours, if they were badly enough spooked and no obstructions got in their way. The cowhands spurred their horses to a full gallop, trying to race up the side of the herd to reach its head. Once there, if they could turn the leaders, the entire herd would start milling in a tighter and tighter circle, choking its momentum and stopping the stampede.
     Riding so fast at night, when neither horse nor rider could see the ground clearly, held hazards of its own, besides the deadly horns and hooves of the longhorns. A horse dropped its foot into a prairie dog burrow. Its leg bone snapped like a twig. With a scream of agony, the animal somersaulted, throwing its rider clear over its head. He bounced on the hard ground, yelling in pain as several of his bones broke; but he was far enough away from the herd that none of the cattle ran over him.
     Two of the most eager among the cowhands were not so fortunate. They raced their horses towards the leading cattle, ready to turn them, starting the milling movement that would halt the herd; but their luck ran out. Another lightning bolt struck the ground, a few hundred yards from the left side of the running herd. Thunder crashed instantaneously. Instinctively, acting as one, most of the herd swerved hard to the right – only to find the two cowhands and their horses directly in its path. The cattle didn’t even hesitate. The two riders and their mounts were slammed down and submerged by a sea of heaving bovine bodies, each weighing hundreds or even thousands of pounds, and sporting four cloven hooves that ripped and tore at everything beneath them.
     The other cowhands had stayed further out from the herd, all too aware of the risks involved. The sudden turn put a few of them in a position to cut the corner on the leading cattle, racing across their front to their left sides. As soon as they could, they began closing in, urging the leading steers further to the right. The herd began to turn inward on itself, forming a tightening spiral that ate its own speed and forward movement. As the cattle were crushed closer and closer together, they had no choice but to slow down. Chests heaving with exertion, hearts pounding, much of the herd eventually shuffled to a halt. However, some cattle near the outer edges and the rear were able to break away and race off into the night. The cowhands let them go. They could be rounded up in daylight, when the darkness no longer hid the dangers.
     Tyler and Lee circled the herd, making sure the hands were spread out at regular intervals, keeping control of the mass of animals. “Stay put until dawn,” they told everybody they saw. “We don’t know how far back the wagons are, but it’s gotta be several miles. We don’t know what direction they are, either. Wait until we can see.”
     It was a thoroughly unpleasant night, made worse by torrential rain that lashed the herd and its handlers at intervals. There were sporadic attempts by some of the cattle to run from nearby lightning and thunder, but the hands were able to turn them back. Nobody had brought their slickers with them, so they had to endure soaking wet clothes, shivering in the strong wind in between rain showers. It was made worse by fear for their three absent comrades. Tyler and Lee had checked and verified everyone who’d come that far, but no-one had seen what became of the missing men.
     With dawn came the first opportunity to check the cattle. As they got them moving towards where they thought the bedding ground was, Lee had two hands run a quick trail count. When he heard the result, he cursed savagely, and went to find Tyler.
     “It’s bad,” he said without preamble as he drew up his horse. “We had 3,210 head when we left Las Cruces. Right now, we’re at 1,824.”
     Tyler opened his mouth to swear explosively, but restrained himself with an almost physical effort of will. He took a few deep breaths before saying, “That ain’t good. I reckon we’d better keep the herd here for a few days while we go looking. You’ve got the floating outfit, and I’ll send messengers to the nearest herds, askin’ them to stop for a few days, so they can send you some o’ their people to help.”
     “Thanks, boss. It’ll be best to move the herd a lil bit each day. There ain’t enough grass here to keep ’em all fed longer than a day or two.”
     “I’ll leave that up to you. Why don’t you handle the herd, and I’ll search for the missin’ steers?”
     “That works. Thanks.”
     They detached the scouts and several of the floating outfit cowhands to look for the three missing hands. There was no immediate sign of the two who’d reached the head of the running herd, but the cowhand who’d been thrown from his horse was soon located. He was in a bad way, with an arm, a collarbone and several ribs broken, and his face badly lacerated from scraping along the iron-hard ground. He’d slid through dung of some kind, so his wounds were anything but clean. His injured horse stood nearby, broken leg hanging, unable to move.
     Taking pity on the animal, a cowhand removed the saddle, then shot it to put it out of its misery. Others hurried back to the wagons, and returned with two long poles, a cross-piece and a tarpaulin. They improvised a travois behind a horse, and lifted the injured man onto it as gently as possible. He tried to be stoic, but couldn’t help moaning in pain at every jolt as the horse towed him back to the wagons. Blood frothed on his lips, a sure sign that one of the broken ribs had penetrated a lung. As the others saw it, their hearts sank. They knew that out here, far from a doctor, recovery from such an injury was very rare.
     A rider hurried back to tell Tyler and Lee about their discovery. Both men listened with bitter apprehension. The very fact that nothing could be seen of the other two missing men was itself a clue as to their likely fate. Tyler said sadly, “I’ll take the floating outfit and ride back up the trail left by the herd as it ran. You get the cattle bedded down, and see to it that the cook makes the best breakfast he knows how for everyone. Save some for us. We’ll eat when we’ve done searching the tracks.”
     The cowhands made no complaint as they collected spades from a supply wagon, knowing they would probably need them, then formed a long line on either side of Tyler. They set off, riding back in the direction from which they’d just come. They knew if that if they had been missing, their comrades would have been looking for them in exactly the same fashion.
     The herd had left a great brown slash in the grassland, over a hundred yards across. Within it, every living thing had been beaten flat – grass, bushes, even animals. A few low humps of dirt showed where individual steers had tripped and fallen, to be pulverized, smashed into the ground by their fellow cattle. They were no longer recognizable as longhorns, so much dirt had been pounded into and over them.
     At the point where the second lightning bolt had struck, diverting much of the herd to the right, its trail split in two. The wider section turned right, but a smaller section carried on straight, showing where some of the missing cattle had gone. However, there was still no sign of the missing men or their horses. Tyler split his party, a third following the smaller trail, two-thirds turning right with him to follow the larger.
     Almost immediately one of the hands halted his horse next to two low mounds on the prairie. He stared in horror for a moment, then bent over and vomited. Even as Tyler and the others turned their horses towards him, he raised a hand and called, in a strangled voice, “Here they are!” He reached for the canteen of water slung on his saddle and rinsed out his mouth, spitting.
     They gathered around. A few turned to one side and vomited in their turn. The remains of the horses were barely recognizable, and the two human bodies had disintegrated. They could no longer be identified at all. The cattle had pounded them so deep into the dirt that there was nothing left of the cowhands except bloodstained mud and tiny fragments of bone. The only signs they had been there were ripped, torn leather fragments from their saddles, the heel of one boot, and a single broken pearl grip from a sixgun, showing pale through the dust.
     Tyler swallowed hard, fighting to control his gag reflex. At last he said softly, “All right, it’s the worst job in the world, but it’s got to be done. Some of you dig two graves over there.” He pointed to the side of the scar left by the stampede. “The rest o’ you, help me gather up what we can.”
     “Hell, boss, ain’t no use gatherin’ up what’s left!” a cowhand objected. “We’ll never know who it was, or what part of ’em, or even if it was them or their horse. Let’s read a few words over ’em right here, then leave ’em be.”
     “If you was them, is that what you’d want your friends to be sayin’ about you right now?” Silence. “Come on. Get to work.”
     The grisly task was soon done, simply because there was so little to be collected. The hands remounted, and gathered around the two low mounds on the grassland. Tyler said, “I ain’t much of a prayin’ man. Anyone want to read over ’em?”
     A gray-haired, grizzled cowhand reached into his saddlebag. “I’ll do it, boss.”
     The others removed their hats as he turned the pages until he came to the ninetieth Psalm, and read it aloud. At the stern words reminding listeners of their fate, many of the cowhands blinked back tears. When he had finished, he closed the Bible, and thought for a few moments. Eventually he said, “Lord, we ain’t none of us saints here. We done wrong, all of us, an’ I guess we’ll do wrong again. Even so, we’re askin’ you to remember Charlie an’ Nathan here. They did their best, never shirked a day’s work an’ never let down their friends. They died tryin’ to help us all. Please be mindful of ’em.” His final “Amen” was joined in a ragged chorus by the rest of the hands.
     As the old-timer replaced his Bible in his saddle-bag, the others put on their hats once more. Tyler said to him, “Thank you, Brewster. That was well said.”
     “Thanks, boss. You gonna write to their families?”
     “To Charlie’s, yeah. Nathan was an orphan. Injuns got his family when he was eleven. He was raised by friends o’ the family, but I don’t know who they were or how to reach ’em.”
     “All right.” The cowhand sighed.
     “I’ll make a marker,” another hand offered. “A man should have something to show where he lies.”
     “Do that, please, Ross,” Tyler agreed. “We’ll be stayin’ here several days to gather up the strays. When it’s ready, we’ll come out here an’ plant it together.”
     As it happened, there were three names on the memorial when they finally erected it. The injured cowhand died, four pain-wracked days after the stampede. It wasn’t only his punctured lung that killed him; he’d also developed blood poisoning from his lacerations. They’d been carefully cleaned, but too late to prevent infection setting in. They wrapped him in a blanket and carried him out to where his comrades had died, digging his grave beside theirs. “At least the three of ’em will be company for each other,” one hand muttered when it was over. The somber crew rode back to the still sadly depleted herd.

Well, there you are - the reality of a cowhand's life.

Following my recent heart scare, I'm finding it difficult to get back in the writing groove.  I fully expect to do so, of course;  but spending several hours, three days a week, traveling to and from cardiac rehabilitation classes, plus another few hours participating in a medical research study, plus the effects of the additional medication I've been prescribed, is taking its toll.  I may have to delay a number of my current projects by a few months.

However, I'd almost completed the fourth Walt Ames novel before this complication.  It only needs a little work to polish it up and get it ready for publication;  so you may see it this year, rather than next, just so I don't keep you waiting too long for another book!  We'll see how things go.

Peter

Ice on your windscreen? Three home-made solutions

Like many of us, Miss D. and I were caught in the big Arctic freeze that blew through last week.  It froze up our car windows, so that before we could drive in the mornings, we had to scrape them clear or use the car's own defrosting mechanisms to melt the ice.

Frustrated, I did a bit of searching, and came up with these three recommendations for an easy, home-made solution to car window icing.

I haven't tried them all yet, but I intend to.  I'm not real sure about the middle one - if the water's too hot, and the windscreen too cold, I can foresee a sudden cracking sound! - but if one uses slightly cooler water, it may work.

If any of these solutions work for you - or if you have another suggestion - please tell us in Comments.  Thanks!

Peter

America's food chain: interesting - and vulnerable?

The University of Illinois has just produced the first high-resolution map of the food supply chain in the United States.  It's eye-opening in many ways.  Fast Company reports:

Our map is a comprehensive snapshot of all food flows between counties in the U.S.—grains, fruits and vegetables, animal feed, and processed food items.

. . .

This map shows how food flows ... in the U.S.

What does this map reveal?

1. WHERE YOUR FOOD COMES FROM
Now, residents in each county can see how they are connected to all other counties in the country via food transfers. Overall, there are 9.5 million links between counties on our map.

All Americans, from urban to rural are connected through the food system. Consumers all rely on distant producers, agricultural processing plants, food storage like grain silos and grocery stores, and food transportation systems.

For example, the map shows how a shipment of corn starts at a farm in Illinois, travels to a grain elevator in Iowa before heading to a feedlot in Kansas, and then travels in animal products being sent to grocery stores in Chicago.

2. WHERE THE FOOD HUBS ARE
At over 17 million tons of food, Los Angeles County received more food than any other county in 2012, our study year. It shipped out even more: 22 million tons.

California’s Fresno County and Stanislaus County are the next largest, respectively. In fact, many of the counties that shipped and received the most food were located in California. This is due to the several large urban centers, such as Los Angeles and San Francisco, as well as the productive Central Valley in California.

We also looked for the core counties—the places that are most central to the overall structure of the food supply network. A disruption to any of these counties may have ripple effects for the food supply chain of the entire country ... San Bernardino County led the list, followed again by a number of other California transit hubs. Also on the list are Maricopa County, Arizona; Shelby County, Tennessee; and Harris County, Texas.

. . .

3. HOW FOOD TRAVELS FROM PLACE TO PLACE
We also looked at how much food is transported between one county and another.

Many of the largest food transport links were within California. This indicates that there is a lot of internal food movement within the state.

One of the largest links is from Niagara County to Erie County in New York. That’s due to the flow of food through an important international overland port with Canada.

Some of the other largest links were inside the counties themselves. This is because of moving food items around for manufacturing within a county—for example, milk gets off a truck at a large depot and is then shipped to a yogurt facility, then the yogurt is moved to a grocery distribution warehouse, all within the same county.

There's more at the link, and even more in the full report.

That map is very interesting, particularly from the point of view of those who claim that so-called Democratic Party strongholds - the cities - are utterly dependent on so-called Republican Party strongholds - more rural areas - for the food they need to survive.  Their implication, of course, is that in the event of civil unrest, the rural areas would hold a whip hand over the urban centers.  In one sense, yes, that's correct;  but in another, it's not.  Much of our food may be produced in rural areas, but much of that same food is processed and packaged and distributed in and from urban areas.  That puts a rather different perspective on the situation.  Without the producers, the processing plants would have nothing to process;  but the producers would have very little to eat, comparatively speaking, without the processors.  The interdependence is very real.

I was also struck by the importance of historical US cities and regions, and their trade networks.  Consider:

• Chicago, IL was the center of the meat-packing industry during the Old West cattle drive era;
• St. Louis, MO was the gateway to the prairies;
• The Midwestern states were the breadbasket of the nation, growing grain;
• The dairy industry became centered, over time, in Wisconsin and Minnesota;
• The Mississippi River and the Great Lakes were major arteries for food movement;
• The meat "industry" (mainly beef cattle) was dominated by cattle movement from Texas to Kansas;
• California's Central Valley came to dominate agricultural production, not only in that state, but for the entire nation, producing "more than half of the fruits, vegetables, and nuts grown in the United States".

Given the thickness of the lines to and from those areas, it seems they still dominate our food production, even though the precise nature of what's produced in and/or moved to each area may have changed over time.

There's also the factor of imports and exports.  Looking at that map, it's clear that a heck of a lot of US food production is exported, and a great deal of what we consume is imported.  Cutting either stream would have very serious economic consequences for both producers and processors.  I was particularly struck by Los Angeles County in California, which has the largest flow of both food imports and food exports in the whole country, by a very big margin.  It's completely urbanized, with little or no food production taking place there;  but a very large proportion of California's food output is processed there, and sent out to the rest of the country.  If that county was cut off from the rest of the country, along with its major port of Long Beach, we'd all be hurting.

Finally, look at the concentration of processing facilities.  Effectively, if you could isolate or "take out" about a dozen major cities, food production in the USA - in the sense of processed, ready-to-eat food, not raw crops - would grind to a halt.  From a strategic point of view, I've no doubt our enemies are fully aware of that;  and I'm sure our own armed forces are equally as aware of our enemies' vulnerabilities.  That's not very comforting for anybody.

Food for thought indeed!

Peter

Reduce the housing shortage by . . . making home ownership more costly???

One wonders whether the San Diego City Council has ever heard the expression, "a contradiction in terms".  Its housing policy appears to exemplify it.

A San Diego committee took a preliminary step Wednesday toward placing a $900 million housing bond on the November 2020 ballot.

. . .

The measure was designed to help San Diego secure a greater share of state money devoted to homelessness and affordable housing by providing local matching funds typically required for such assistance.

Supporters say evidence the bond is necessary includes city estimates that San Diego needs more than 5,400 additional housing units geared for homeless people.

Councilman Mark Kersey, who voted “no” along with Councilman Chris Cate, said the subsidized housing units the bond would pay for are too expensive for him to be comfortable asking voters to pay higher property taxes.

He said the average cost for a subsidized unit is typically higher than $400,000.

“You’re now asking San Diegans to subsidize the construction of units that are nicer and more expensive than the ones they themselves live in,” he said. “I think this is going to be a tough sell.”

There's more at the link.

So, in a city where there's already a shortage of affordable housing, you plan to make housing less affordable, by making it more expensive to own, by raising property taxes?  Verily, the mind doth boggle . . .

As for a cost of $400,000 per subsidized housing unit, that's just plain insane!  What are you building for the homeless - five-star catered accommodation?  There's an old saying that "beggars can't be choosers".  By all means provide basic accommodation, but luxury housing?  Why the hell should the city - or any other government entity - have to provide that?  This is touchy-feely do-goodism gone mad!

I think the "Conestoga hut" approach is a much more effective first step - and vastly more economical.

You can read more about Conestoga huts here.  They seem like an outstanding idea, and at $2,500 apiece, you can buy 160 of them for the cost of one of the subsidized housing units being proposed in San Diego!  Sure, there are issues of sanitation, etc. to be sorted out, but communal bathrooms can be erected at a very reasonable cost per user, and the huts can be erected on vacant lots and/or outside town, if necessary.  Feeding arrangements, etc. are a matter of organization.  Having worked with the homeless in South Africa, and being familiar with the challenges involved, there would be no insurmountable problems that I can see in setting up a Conestoga Hut village at relatively low cost.

Proponents of a San Diego-style approach will doubtless argue that the Conestoga Hut solution is short-term only, and can't compare to a permanent home.  They're right - but what makes it a city government's problem to provide permanent homes?  Why should our taxes pay for other people's housing, except on an emergency or short-term basis?  I'm certainly not going to tolerate that where I live, and I'll apply all my energy, if necessary, to defeating any politician who advocates it.  Besides, if it comes to that, providing a new Conestoga hut every two to three years to a permanent resident is still a damned sight cheaper than other alternatives - and one could always build them out of longer-lasting, more durable materials, for not much greater expense.

This entire nation is built upon individual responsibility, not communal.  Sure, there are those who will never be able to exercise much in the way of individual responsibility, due to illness, or accident, or whatever;  and we should certainly help them.  That's part of being socially responsible, and it's why I've volunteered to help many community efforts (including helping the homeless) over the years.  Nevertheless, the help we provide should be affordable and sustainable.  $400,000 "free" (i.e. taxpayer-funded) housing units are neither!




Peter

Fraud and counterfeiting in medical supplies

I've been looking into emergency medical products to control bleeding, following my recent spell in hospital and subsequent developments.  I've been very fortunate to have Kelly Grayson as a friend.  He's not only a very experienced paramedic, he's won national awards in that field, and is about as knowledgeable as you can get as to what works and what doesn't.  He's pointed me in the direction of what I need (tourniquets, larger hemostatic wound dressings, etc.), and I'm in the process of buying it now.

What's astonished me is the amount of fraud and counterfeiting going on in that field.  There are certain types of tourniquet (CAT and SOF, the latter often referred to as SOF-T) that are ubiquitous in the field, and dominate the market.  However, the number of knock-off copies of them is almost unbelievable.  A quick read through customer reviews on Amazon.com shows a number of complaints that what they received is of poor quality or shoddy manufacture, broke in use, etc.  I'm also told by some EMS personnel I know that what they order for use in their ambulances has to be carefully checked and re-checked, particularly when they order a resupply kit rather than individual items.  A number have complained to me that the kits are often filled with the cheapest crap the supplier can find, rather than the "good stuff".

On that subject, I've been advised not to buy a pre-packed kit, because the price is often much higher than if I bought high-quality individual components and packaged them myself.  It seems quality suppliers don't charge like that, but how does a non-expert such as myself know when a supplier is "quality", or less so?

I'm now going to equipment manufacturers' Web sites whenever possible, and getting my information straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak.  I'm also buying what I need direct from them when I can, because even if it costs a few dollars more, I'm guaranteed to get what I paid for, rather than a cheap knock-off product.  I'm building four emergency bleeding control kits, one for each vehicle, one for our home, and one to put in a small "to-go" duffel bag that will be permanently packed, ready for our not infrequent trips.  I thought that sort of care was excessive until a few days ago, when a very small wound took hours (and four dressings) to stop bleeding.  A bigger wound, such as in an auto accident, might kill me rather quickly unless I can control the bleeding at once.  These anticoagulant medications are sure effective, but also very worrying!

Across the medical supplies field, fraud and counterfeiting seem to be a growing problem.  Another example is CPAP masks and components.  Just look at how many customers complain that what they receive is a cheap copy, rather than the real thing, and doesn't work as well.  I had no idea of how prevalent such copying was, but it seems there's big money to be made by the unscrupulous, and they're crowding in.

Anyway, I just thought I'd put this out there.  If you buy or use emergency medical gear for any health problem, you might want to make sure you're getting what you pay for.

Peter

Fanatics, politics, and one-track minds

As I've said many times, I'm neither Republican nor Democrat, neither left-wing nor right-wing.  I have my own views on life, the universe and everything, shaped and formed through some pretty eventful experiences, and I don't expect anyone else to subscribe to them.

Nevertheless, I try to understand what both wings of politics are going on about.  That's particularly important when neither side seems willing to compromise in any respect whatsoever.  The Z man addresses this as observed on the left wing of politics.  Can the same be said of at least some of those on the right?

Being on the Left no longer means joining a group that has a tangible enemy, against whom the group throws themselves. The days of unionist, socialists and communists operating as collectives are gone. Even the post-modern movements like climate change and sexual politics is atomized. Much of it is backed by the sorts of people the Left used to oppose like rich people and business.

Lacking an organized enemy and a transcendent reason to formally organize, left-wing politics is highly personal now. No one is committing to a cause bigger than themselves, as their self is the most important thing in their life. It’s why the pronoun stuff is such a thing for these people. There is not much more personal than how the world will refer to you in terms of sex. This intense focus on how the world must perceive them is the root of their politics now. The issues are just vehicles for self-expression.

. . .

The idea of the personal being the political is not new. The phrase comes from an essay by feminist Carol Hanisch in the 1960’s. The idea is that personal experience is intertwined with larger social and political structures. One’s personal choices reveal one’s politics. Consequently, one should make personal choices that are consistent with one’s politics. The political person should live the life they advocate, so that means not doing business or associating with the wrong people.

Today, this has moved from simply not buying stuff from a business owned by a bad thinker to committing one’s life to destroying the bad thinker and anyone foolish enough to not share the same hatred. The whole woke movement is a blood lust, an effort to cause real harm to people by denying them the ability to live.

. . .

The modern leftist is like a bear protecting her cubs. Any perceived threat is met with overwhelming aggression. You see it in the language. They conflate ideas and statements with actions. Holding a contrary opinion makes them feel unsafe, as that opinion is viewed as violence. They need safe spaces, by which they mean the removal of anything and anyone that contradicts their sense of self.

This is the real cause of what is behind the social media purges. From the perspective of a radical, everything in their space is theirs and an extension of their self. When a contrary opinion, or even an oblique reference to one, shows up in their twitter timeline, it feels like a home invasion to them. Those women posting about how they are literally shaking or sobbing because their favorite cable show had a bad person as a guest are not exaggerating. They were physically effected by the experience.

. . .

The sorts of people drawn into the politics of self are not new to humanity. These people are not the victims of a new pathogen or chemical contamination. It’s just that in the past, our societies had evolved cultural and institutional ways of channeling these people into defined roles. The obliteration of community by global capital and the destruction of culture through multiculturalism has destroyed everything that gives meaning and purpose to life. That’s why they are so angry.

There's more at the link.

I have to wonder whether some on the right wing of US politics aren't infected with the same flawed approach.  Consider the "never-Trump" brigade.  Aren't they behaving as if they were personally offended, personally threatened, by President Trump's election, behavior, or even his very existence?  Isn't working for his removal, by any means possible, what gives meaning to their lives at this point?

"The politics of self".  In a self-centered world, that concept makes a weird kind of sense.  It certainly goes a long way to explain what we're seeing today.

Peter

Terrorist chickens coming home to roost?

A few weeks ago, I noted that ISIS terrorists imprisoned in the Kurdish areas of Syria were caught between a rock and a hard place.

Syrian security forces are also helping to round up or kill any ISIL prisoners who had recently escaped from Kurdish prisons. Everyone involved here, especially the Syrians, Iranians and Iraqis, have a compelling reason to prevent ISIL members or family members from getting free. The Kurds had asked, without much success, for more help, especially financial, to deal with all the ISIL personnel they had captured. Moslem and non-Moslem nations were not eager to take back their citizens who had joined ISIL and were now Kurdish prisoners. The Assads will kill most of these ISIL members as well as many of their wives and children. That’s how the Assads deal with Islamic terrorists who oppose them and ISIL was definitely an enemy of the Assads.

You'll note that Turkey was not mentioned in that paragraph.  That's because Turkey has sponsored and supported ISIS/ISIL in Syria and Iraq, thanks to President Erdogan's misbegotten policies and blinkered view of Islam.  Turkey has, in effect, become the second-largest sponsor (after Iran) of Islamic fundamentalist terrorism in the Middle East.

That doesn't mean that Turkey wants to support such terrorists on its own soil.  They're hard to manage, and with the typical fanatic's monomaniacal focus, can turn on their sponsors at any moment.  In its recent invasion of Syria, Turkey has captured (or become the new captors of previously captured) ISIS/ISIL terrorists, to the tune of over a thousand of them.  It doesn't want them within its borders.

Cue the European Union and other nations.  They've consistently refused to take back their citizens who went to Syria and Iraq to fight for ISIS/ISIL.  They don't want such radicalized individuals to return to their home countries and spread their poison there.  They've even, in some cases, stripped them of their citizenship.  They effectively, in so many words, hoped they'd be killed in combat, and when some weren't, they abandoned them to rot in their prisons in the Middle East.  I daresay, as noted above, that those in formerly Kurdish-controlled prisons who have now been handed over to Syria, won't rot for long.  They'll be tortured for information, then killed, as per the long-standing Syrian custom.

(Of course, many of those prisoners have taken advantage of the confusion in the region, caused by Turkey's invasion, to escape.  The Kurds have pulled back precipitately in some regions, without securing their prisoners.  Last month the US warned that many of those fanatics had escaped.  Frankly, if I'd been one of them, and knew that unless I escaped, I'd be handed over to the Syrians, I'd have moved heaven and earth to get out of there at any cost, to avoid my otherwise inevitable fate.)

That leaves terrorists captured, or taken over, by Turkey.  Guess what that nation plans to do with them?

An alleged American member of Islamic State, stranded for a second day on the border between Greece and Turkey after Turkey expelled him, is “not our problem”, the Turkish president, Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, has said.

. . .

A Turkish official told AFP that he had refused to be returned to the US and instead asked to be sent to Greece. Athens said he was refused entry when he tried to cross the no man’s land between the two countries to the Greek town of Kastanies. He is reported to have spent the night outside and witnesses said he has been trying to shout to reporters on the Turkish side of the border.

Asked to comment on the reports on Tuesday, Erdoğan said: “Whether [the deported Isis fighters] are stuck there at the border it doesn’t concern us. We will continue to send them. Whether they take them or not, it is not our concern.”

Speaking to reporters in Ankara on Tuesday, Erdoğan threatened that Turkey could release all of its jailed foreign militants and send them to Europe.

“You should revise your stance towards Turkey, which at the moment holds so many Isis members in prison and at the same time controls those in Syria,” Erdoğan said, addressing European countries.

“These gates will open and these Isis members who have started to be sent to you will continue to be sent. Then you can take care of your own problem.”

There's more at the link.

The EU and many other nations sought to shuffle off their home-grown fundamentalist terrorists onto other nations, primarily the USA and its local Kurdish allies.  The USA has now walked away from it (which I think was the right thing to do), and the Kurds have other things on their minds - like, say, survival in the cauldron that the Middle East has become.  Therefore, everyone who shuffled off the problem in the past has just found it coming right back at them.

There is, of course, a simple way to deal with such fanatical terrorists.  It involves one bullet per terrorist.  However, in today's politically correct world, that solution is a non-starter.  That's a pity, because there isn't any other that will work.

That clip from "The Untouchables" may refer to "the Chicago way", but it's also the way of the terrorist and counter-terrorist.  Terrorists are the most hardened of criminals.  They don't understand democracy, or mercy, or the law, as anything except levers they can manipulate in order to get their way and accomplish their purpose.  The only effective counter to that is to pay them out in their own coin, and fight them on their own terms.  You can only do that with people whose guilt is beyond doubt, of course;  but for such people, nothing less will work.

You want examples?  Here are some from the real world.  No, I didn't do any of them . . . but I knew people who did.

• Terrorists plant landmines on rural dirt tracks to blow up tractors and trailers carrying innocent civilians.  The idea is to discourage them from working for the "occupiers".  The response?  Wire captured terrorists to the front of the lead vehicle in a convoy.  (Yes, wire, not rope.  Wire cuts into flesh as the vehicle bumps over the unimproved surface of a bush road, sometimes right down to the bone.  The pain, and the sight, can be rather persuasive arguments to a terrorist.)  If there's a landmine on that road, guess who dies first?  It's amazing how often the terrorist(s) concerned would reveal the location(s) of said landmine(s) before they reached them . . . and it's amazing how many fewer landmines were laid, once the word spread.
• Criminals, and terrorists, rule the locals by intimidation and fear.  They make people too scared to inform on them or give evidence against them.  The answer?  Make them fear the revenge of the locals.  Example:  a hardened criminal and terrorist (yes, he was both) was a rapist and sadist.  He was injured in a police shoot-out, so they took him (under guard) to a local clinic for treatment.  While there, a senior NCO visited the matron (a lady from a different tribe), and informed her that the terrorist who'd raped her daughter was, at that moment, in ward so-and-so, bed number so-and-so.  The police then left, taking the guards with them (an unfortunate "oversight" for which they were later severely reprimanded.  I think that translates as "Naughty!  Naughty!")  The terrorist was still there when the cops came back for him, a few hours later . . . blind, tongue ripped out, emasculated, and a few other things I won't bother to describe.  That township was a very peaceful place for the next few months, after the word got around - and the terrorist movement concerned never managed to re-establish itself there to the same extent.
• A number of terrorists were detained in another country, generally sympathetic to their movement.  They were officially being "processed through the courts".  There was ample reason to suspect they would be given bail, after which (of course) they would simply vanish, forfeiting their bail, free to carry on with their evil work.  The solution?  A convenient "prison riot" in which - oh, dear! - all the alleged terrorists were somehow killed.  Rumors that the guards were bribed to back off and let the riot take its course were, of course, firmly denied, and a subsequent investigation found no evidence to substantiate them.

The West has forgotten many of those lessons, in a surfeit of liberal democracy.  I rather suspect many of them are going to have to be re-learned.  Human rights?  Uh-huh.  Tell the victims of terror that they can't be protected or avenged, because that would interfere with their attackers' human rights, and see what sort of response you get.  You'll deserve it.

Peter

An antidote for a freezing night

It's another night of the current Arctic blast, with temperatures setting a new low record for this part of the world at this time of year.  I think we need something warm, thick and hearty (apart from me, that is) to get us through the evening.  Hmmm . . . what leftovers do we have in the fridge and freezer, things that really need to get used up within the next day or two?

• Half a cabbage;
• 3 onions;
• A head of celery;
• Half a tub of 5-day-old leftover rice.

Add:

• Two cans of Great Northern beans;
• Two cans of diced tomatoes;
• A can of baby corn spears;
• A can of green beans;
• A sixteen-month-old tub of home-made duck stock from the freezer (about 3 cups);
• A pound of stir-fry vegetables, ditto;
• Garlic, onion, and vegetarian stock and seasonings, dissolved into 2 cups of hot water.

Combine the lot, and set to simmer.  The smells are delicious, and the early, as-yet-unseasoned flavor isn't bad at all, if I do say so myself.  This should be a good antidote to the weather!

Peter

The Tetris Challenge - military edition

The so-called "Tetris Challenge" appears to be sweeping through the Twitterverse.  In it, military, first-responder and other units and organizations display their equipment, laid out in a tight pattern as if to fill up every space (as in the video game Tetris), and photographed from above.  A quick Internet search on "Tetris challenge" produces dozens of links, and "Military Tetris challenge" focuses in on that aspect of it.  A lot of people appear to be having a lot of fun.

I've been browsing through military-related Tetris Challenge pictures.  Here are a few examples (click each image for a larger view).  First, from the Hungarian Air Force, one of their Saab Gripen fighters with its hardware.

Next, the Malaysian Air Force with one of their F/A-18D Hornet aircraft.

The Royal Netherlands Army has joined in with a photograph of its PzH 2000 155mm. howitzer.

However, according to The Aviationist, the Israeli Air Force has just outdone everybody with this image of many of its aircraft, current and historic, and their equipment.  I wonder how long it took them to assemble everything?  Note, too, the comparative sizes of the various aircraft.  That's a perspective we don't see often.

The IAF even provided this video of their servicemen putting everything together.  Looks like they were having fun.

If any similar images have caught your eye, post a link to them in Comments, so we can all enjoy them.

Peter

Recovery is not as easy as I'd hoped

Following my adventures in hospital last week, I've been trying to get back on an even keel.  Progress has been in fits and starts, with a few more fits than I'd have preferred!  Still, I'm alive to work at it, which is a very good start.

I'm on a new-fangled anticoagulant medication, because apparently the danger of blood clots in a newly-installed stent is very serious.  I'll be on it for at least a year, and perhaps longer, depending on what my cardiologist decides.  (Affording it is going to be a problem;  it's going to cost me hundreds of dollars a month, even with my medical insurance.  I may have to settle for an older and much cheaper generic anticoagulant instead, if I can get the cardiologist to agree.)

This is the first time I've been prescribed an anticoagulant. I hadn't realized just how well they work.  I scratched the back of my hand yesterday morning - a minor scrape, leaving only a pinprick-size hole.  However, the damned thing wouldn't stop bleeding!  I went through four dressings, and I think it's finally under control, but I'll have to be careful when I take off the bandage.  I don't want to remove the scab with it, and have to start the whole process all over again.  I have some wound coagulant powder and coagulant dressings on order;  they should get here later this week.  I'm going to keep some of each in both of our vehicles, and more ready for use at home, and in a travel kit for "grab and go" purposes.  Bleeding is now a serious hazard for me.

The side effects of the anticoagulant aren't limited to bleeding.  I find myself getting dizzy at any rapid movement, and I'm very short of breath, no matter what I'm doing.  It's difficult to rest properly as a result.  I may will have to switch to a different CPAP mask, because a nasal mask no longer allows me to get enough air into my lungs while asleep, so that my mouth opens and I snore, waking my wife.  That's a non-starter.  It's affecting my writing, too.  If one's constantly tired, creativity takes a knock.  I've written quite a bit since last week, but the quality isn't good enough to satisfy me (or my readers).  I'll have to see how this develops over the next few weeks.

Still, those complications are relatively minor compared to what might have been.  At least I'm alive to complain!  There's a lot to be said for that.  I'll be starting a cardiac rehabilitation program soon, and that should help to stabilize things even more.

Last night, with an Arctic cold front sweeping through and the temperature outside well below freezing, Miss D. and I decided to treat ourselves to extra heat.  We lit a fire in the grate, and I cooked up a thick and hearty beef vegetable soup that warmed us from our heads to our toes.  There's something sybaritically luxurious about sitting in front of a fire, enjoying each other's company, imbibing rich, tasty homemade soup, and looking at a frosty, freezing world outside.  We were definitely on the right side of our windows and doors!

Peter

I'd like to try cooking them

I was amused to read that clay tablets, many thousands of years old, containing ancient Babylonian recipes have been decoded, and researchers are trying to prepare the dishes they describe.

The instructions for lamb stew read more like a list of ingredients than a bona fide recipe: “Meat is used. You prepare water. You add fine-grained salt, dried barley cakes, onion, Persian shallot, and milk. You crush and add leek and garlic.” But it’s impossible to ask the chef to reveal the missing pieces: This recipe’s writer has been dead for some 4,000 years.

Instead, a team of international scholars versed in culinary history, food chemistry and cuneiform (the Babylonian system of writing first developed by the ancient Sumerians of Mesopotamia) have been working to recreate this dish and three others from the world’s oldest-known recipes. It’s a sort of culinary archaeology that uses tablets from Yale University’s Babylonian Collection to gain a deeper understanding of that culture through the lens of taste.

. . .

Of the older three tablets, the most intact is more of a listing of ingredients that amounts to 25 recipes of stews and broths; the other two, containing an additional 10-plus recipes, go further in depth with cooking instructions and presentation suggestions, but those are broken and therefore not as legible.

The challenge was to peel back the layers of history while also maintaining authenticity amid the limitations of modern ingredients.

. . .

“I was really surprised to find that what is a staple in Iraq today, which is a stew, is also a staple from ancient times, because in Iraq today, that is our daily meal: stew and rice with a bread,” Nasrallah said. “It is really fascinating to see how such a simple dish, with all its infinite variety, has survived from ancient times to present, and in those Babylonian recipes, I see not even the beginnings; they already had reached sophisticated levels in cooking those dishes. So who knows how much earlier they began?”

There's more at the link.

It's fascinating to trace human history and wanderings through local, regional and international cuisine.  Many people are unaware of just how many influences have helped to shape and form a food culture that they mistakenly regard as unique.

To take just one example in the United States, consider Texas "cowboy cooking".  It blends food traditions from West Africa, the Caribbean, the Carolinas, Cajun and Creole influences, Spanish and South American dishes, and the uniquely home-grown "cook what you've got" approach of frontier settlers, plus modern adulterations of those historical influences, and combines them all into what has become a food tradition in its own right.  A fascinating book on the subject is "The Texas Cowboy Cookbook:  A History in Recipes and Photos", which devotes a chapter to each of the major influences affecting that cuisine, and offers many authentic recipes.  I've made some of them.  They're delicious!

It's the best historical treatment of its subject that I've yet found, and the photographs in particular (many dating from the era in question) are intensely interesting.  It's one of my standard reference books for the "Ames Archives" series of Western novels, not just in terms of meals, but the supplies that would be carried and used by travelers, trail drives and the like.  You'll read a lot more about them in the next Walt Ames novel, to be published in 2020.

Peter

That's a trick they didn't teach us at seminary . . .

Being a retired chaplain, I couldn't help but laugh out loud at yesterday's Pearls Before Swine comic strip.  (Click the image to see a larger version at the comic's Web page.)

The comic amused me on many levels, but it also highlights a sad truth.  I don't believe in the so-called "rapture" (it's not biblically valid at all, and was never part of the teaching of the early church), but an awful lot of people seem to spend an awful lot of time arguing about it.  In fact, so many alleged Christians spend so much time arguing about when and where we've come from, and when and where we're going to, they forget that being a Christian necessarily implies living out one's faith today, and every day.  That's the Biblical principle, anyway.

As far as I'm concerned, the end of the world can look after itself.  If I'm still around at the time, I daresay I'll find out about it!

Peter

Sunday morning music

While I was in hospital last week, a reader sent me the link to a new music video by Russian trio (and occasional quartet) Silenzium.  They appear to be a living definition of "Don't sell the steak, sell the sizzle" (or, in this case, "Don't sell the music, sell the sexy!").

I'd never heard of them, so I looked them up.  Last.fm says of them:

Silenzium was created in 2004 by young musicians from Novosibirsk Philharmonic Society. Silenzium is a classical string quartet with the addition of a contrabass and a drum set, which breaks all the stereotypes about a traditional sound of a string band.

There's more at the link.  Interesting reading.

They certainly have a varied and eclectic musical repertoire.  I've selected three of their pieces, including the one sent to me.  To begin, here's one they call "Storm", based on Vivaldi's music.  They say of it, on their Russian-language Web site (courtesy of Google Translate):

We present to your attention our new clip - Silenzium - Storm (Vivaldi cover)! Currently, there are many versions of this classic masterpiece, but we could not pass by without showing the world our vision of this music. For us, the Storm is about nature ... women! Women are free, passionate, beautiful and happy in their freedom!

Next, here's a more reflective performance they call "Moment of Peace".

Finally, here's their cover of Depeche Mode's "Enjoy the Silence".

Interesting performances, although less musically than aesthetically, I suspect!  Still, they have quite a following.  You can see and hear more of their work on their YouTube channel.

Peter