Maine continues purple

We, as usual, elected two Democratic representatives and one Republican senator.  Checks and balances, you know.  Give all the power to one party, they might decide to use it.

Dead heat on a merry-go-round

I just wandered by MSN's state-by-state display, and see that both North Carolina and Missouri are shown as tied.  Going to need a recount and Dade County redux?

At least this time, the fate of the known universe doesn't hang in the balance.

Also a graphic display that a large contiguous stretch of the country wanted the other guy.  Gonna be some tensions there -- I wouldn't want to be serving in Fort Sumter . . .

Impertinence

I have a twinge every time I read one of our foreign siblings congratulating us on doing the Right Thing. 

It's a little early to make that judgment.  I'll get back to you in a few years.

Also, you know, I don't presume to select the Right Thing for France or even Georgia.

We've chosen a different thing. 

"Different" doesn't have to contain a Right or Wrong.  "Right and Wrong" throws us back into that realm of demons that has clouded and soured the whole debate, clothing one side in the armor of righteousness and the other cast as spawn of Satan.  And which is which changes with who you ask.

I'm more than a little tired of Us Versus Them.  That's often a prelude to Us shitting on Them.

(Cat Versus Monkey, on the other hand, remains entertaining.)

Guy Fawkes Day

Commemorating the last man to enter Parliament with honest intent . . .

And, in a matter that will interest Younger Son

Tiger (gray cat up the street) has been logged in.  I was out for an evening walk yesterday, and got accosted by a familiar shadow and scratchy meow up near Garland Street. 

In traditional cat fashion, he wanted to know where the hell I had been all these weeks.

A connection I should have made

Didn't occur to me until I read it in comments to another LJ, but Grant Park . . .

Big difference between last night and coughing the reek of teargas in 1968.

Wednesday roadkill report

(We now return you to your regularly-scheduled non-political journal.)

One dead raccoon, up near the golf course, and a flat muskrat out in the bog.  Also a couple of garter snakes here and there.  Add those as a postscript to the bicycle season toll.

Temperature shot up past 60 F at noon, so I summoned my trusty steed and rode forth under gray and windswept skies.  Whatever.  Most of the leaves are down, with the exception of some confused European maples and the oaks and beeches that will hold brown leaves right through winter.  Even the larches are down to a golden fuzz in the bog, although some of the isolated highland trees are still brilliant. 

"All the leaves are brown, and the sky is gray..."

Hey, if I get another couple of rides in, I can reach 1400 miles!  (To which Wife replies, Fat Chance.  That glacier is still out there, biding its time.)

15.33 miles, 1:10:24

1329 miles on the odometer, 1350+/- actual.