Today in 1943, “pay-as-you-go” income-tax withholding began. (Oh thank you, Milton Friedman.)<\/p>\n
Today in 2004, Marlon Brando died, age 80.<\/p>\n
There was probably no connection between the two, but I have friends who could spin conspiracies proving me wrong. Today is also the day the Battle of Gettysburg began (1863). I had a Confederate cavalry re-enactor friend who, with his comrades, almost won that battle once. It was very embarrassing for the event organizers. Not to mention the Union troops.<\/p>\n
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The wind has been howling more than usual lately. Making me crazy. Makes me dream of northwest forests. But some evenings it goes still and then it’s pleasure to pull up a chair on the hillside and sit gazing over a sun-setting vista. Watching thunderstorms off in the distance that somehow never seem to come here. In the high desert you learn a use for that otherwise obscure word, “virga,” meaning rain that starts to fall but never reaches ground. Curtains of it everywhere.<\/p>\n
This time of year it’s cloudy and the storms seem to be all around us, in a circle. They’re dry and dangerous with lightning strikes. Then when the rains come, they come in wash-filling torrents that even the dogs are smart enough to avoid.<\/p>\n
And the junipers. Suddenly they’re all in berries without having given a sign of blossom. I can see the little purple buds when I look close. But only real close. I wonder how many juniper berries it would take to flavor homemade gin? Hm. Not enough of a drinker ever to try that experiment.<\/p>\n
And yesterday afternoon I had a chat with some horses. A family on the road in has three, including a gorgeous palomino Morgan mare — the very horse I’d love to have (although geldings seem to be a little more sensible — if the word “sensible” can ever be applied to a horse). For the first time ever they were moderately close to the road as I drove by. And surprisingly, when I slowed down, all three strolled over to the fence. I stopped, got out, and said hello and scritched them all behind the ears and on the forehead. If they were disappointed that I didn’t bring food, they were too polite to say. If I stay in this place I’m going to have a Morgan horse one of these days. A dun or a palomino, maybe even that very horse I scritched today. Don’t care whether it’s a mare or a gelding. But I want sensible. That’s why I want a Morgan.<\/p>\n
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Monsanto lost a Supreme Court case yesterday<\/a> on GMO faux food. Or animal feed grains, in this case. I don’t quite know what I think about genetically modified foods. On one hand, I can see the possibility of there being excellent plants, modified for drought resistance or higher nutrient content. But any company that produces a product called “Roundup Ready Alfalfa,” specially designed to do well with Monsanto-produced poisons, and goes around threatening hapless farmers who have Monsanto seeds blow into and take root in their own fields … I like to see them lose, just on principle.<\/p>\n Besides, they’re too tight with the fedgov. They’ve given me the creeps ever since I learned that the gov owns part of the patent on Monsanto “Terminator” seeds. Ugh.<\/p>\n —–<\/p>\n This is an interesting NYT op-ed<\/a> on Alcoholics Anonymous that — surprisingly — has something to say about limited government and personal freedom. When you have some time, be sure to follow the link to the Wired<\/i> article<\/a> that got David Brooks to musing. I haven’t finished it yet myself but it takes a pretty interesting tack.<\/p>\n I don’t quite know what I think about AA, either. Although I believe the “surrendering to a higher power” bit is just a mind game, I know it works for some when nothing else has. But the whole model of permanent addiction seems so toxic. I know there are<\/i> permanent addicts, for sure. I’ve known many of them. Unfortunately one of the most “hooked” people I ever knew was hooked on AA. She’d had a five-year career of drinking. But she’d been in AA for 12 years and if she couldn’t go several times a week, she felt as if her world would collapse. Sad woman. Tons and tons of promise. Everybody liked her upon first meeting her. She seemed interesting and unique. But nobody ever wanted to be around her very long because every dinner party, every trip to the beach, every card game would eventually turn into “The Tragic Tale of Francine,” as she halted all the fun and told the same, endlessly repetitive story of her woes. All attempts by friends to show her another side of life failed; she was so addicted to her addictions, including sorrow and AA.<\/p>\n I think it makes more sense to see addiction as a complex phenomenon that starts and ends with personal choice. I think at least it helps to give an individual addict more eye-opening choices.<\/p>\n —–<\/p>\n