The Israeli government has shown us something new this past week. That they were willing to cross a line in the sand and load hundreds of explosive charges into everyday handheld devices. It was done by infiltrating the supply chain at the company that produced them. In this way very many Hezbollah were harmed, as well as anyone unfortunate enough to be standing near them.
Think for a moment. If the Israelis are able do it, so are we. And so are our adversaries.
Our phones, our computers, even our automobiles could be weaponized and there you are driving down the road and your car swerves into oncoming traffic. Or your phone explodes and maims you and the child you are holding in your lap. Or your toaster starts to fling sourdough shuriken at you.
About that crossed line. Perhaps we should thank Mr. Netanyahu and his gang for bringing us up to date on just how vulnerable we all are. Quite a bloody demonstration, though, with all those bystanders hurt or killed and everything.
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Five years ago when I renewed my driver’s license, the photograph that was taken was awful. It was washed out, grim, and totally unrepresentative of my vibrant and devilishly attractive self. This year I had to renew that license, and now the photo is even more grotesque. I look like a startled corpse.
You know how in a horror movie when the camera moves forward and down into the coffin and then suddenly the eyes snap open? – that’s me in my official ID photo!
Fortunately very few people will get to see that photograph, and I am certainly not going to publish it here. After all, there may be children looking over your shoulder and their little psyches could be permanently scarred.
BTW, if any of you are wondering whether I should still be driving, calm thyselves. For some reason Nature has blessed me and I am still one of the most capable drivers ever seen in Paradise. And whatever you may have heard about that time last week when I crossed the median downtown and drove for three blocks into oncoming traffic, I have a perfectly logical explanation. A squirrel.
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I am disappointed when the fact-checkers of the world find that a member of the “Blue Team” is telling fibs. Doubly disappointed when they repeat the same mistruth the next day.
I can understand how it could happen when you are asked to spew thousands of words a week in rallies, interviews, sound bites, scripted moments, etc. But even though it is a lot to expect, striving for honesty and admitting when you’re wrong … I don’t think it’s too much to ask.
I am just so tired of being lied to. Really tired of that whole shabby business. If someone is promoting themselves as an agent of change, talking straight would be a good place to start. I hope Harris and Walz will keep their focus and clean up their speeches. The Republicans supply more than enough reasons for criticism without them needing to make stuff up.
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One morning this week a large sign blossomed on our next-door neighbor’s garage.
The subtitle of the sign is “Make Liberals Cry Again.” That makes me sad. These are two decent people who have been hoodwinked by a charlatan. Cluck is not a conservative but an unprincipled opportunist. These neighbors are strongly “pro-life” and that makes it hard for them not to react viscerally to the Democratic platform, with its emphasis on reproductive freedom. I get that. What I don’t get is single-issue voting.
If liberals are crying it is because they see clearly the harm this orange-tinted crook has already done, and blatantly promises to keep doing if re-elected.
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Frank Bruni is a good man and a very thoughtful columnist. Thursday’s posting in the Times I thought was worth linking to. Sort of summarizes where a lot of folks stand re: the two campaigners. (At least a lot of folks on the left, which means the right side of history.)
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The movie “Reagan” has been in town now for several weeks. Apparently there are enough local people interested in a time when Republicans were only (forgivably) mistaken in their politics, and had not yet become the gaggle of lunatics and criminals we see on television. Nostalgia for a dimly remembered past, I guess.
The film stars Dennis Quaid as Ronald Reagan. Quaid has recently revealed himself to be a Cluck supporter, which I’m thinking … is there anything that would cause Reagan to spin faster in his grave than knowing this bit of irony?
But Dennis’ coming out hasn’t bothered me like you’d think it would, because he is not the Quaid brother I respect the most. That honor falls to Randy, seen at right in the tasteful “the shitter’s full” scene from the movie A Christmas Vacation.
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Memento Mori: Maggie Smith (1934-2024)
For me, Maggie Smith was given the best lines in the series Downton Abbey. The rest of the cast played characters who were still trying to achieve something or other, but the grande dame Violet Crawley had already achieved it all, seen it all, and was not enamored of modern life.
Her specialty was the verbal dagger thrust, sometimes in and out before the person even knew they’d been wounded, and who were left wondering where all that blood on their shirtfront was coming from.
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Seen on a drive toward Telluride on Saturday.
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Little Home In The Valley 