What an impressive letter, here. Thanks to the economists at marginalrevolution.com for the link, from a reporter’s FOIA request for her mom’s emails:
I love how she puts the important parts in bold. She must know that her parents skim. My dad used to send me letters with footnotes, since he knew how skeptical I was.
Le Gardien de Registre a le rapport ici. Plus dans Paris Match:
Ils s’appellent Alek Skarlatos et Spencer Stone. Ils se connaissent depuis l’enfance. Ils sont devenus aujourd’hui de véritables héros salués comme tels par le président des États-Unis, Barack Obama, et le chef d’État français, François Hollande. Les deux jeunes Américains ont évité ce qui aurait pu être un carnage, vendredi, dans le train Thalys reliant Amsterdam à Paris. Ils étaient accompagnés d’un de leur ami, Anthony Sadler. «On a entendu un coup de feu et du verre brisé,» a expliqué aux médias américains M. Skarlatos, 22 ans, membre de la garde nationale de l’état de l’Oregon, rentré il y a peu d’une mission en Afghanistan.
Pentagon policy is to not identify soldiers in incidents like this, out of concern for terrorist retaliation. These gentlemen don’t look like the types to worry much about that, and the people of Roseburg are well supplied with sufficient arms for a well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State.
7/5/2015: This Posner guy has a decent vitae, he’d probably have tenure if not for his obvious problem following the policy on civility and cyberbullying. No word on whether the law school is pursuing disciplinary action for his comments in Slate, here:
… I say that gratuitous interference in other people’s lives is bigotry.
… The chief justice criticizes the majority for “order[ing] the transformation of a social institution that has formed the basis of human society for millennia, for the Kalahari Bushmen and the Han Chinese, the Carthaginians and the Aztecs. Just who do we think we are?” We’re pretty sure we’re not any of the above. And most of us are not convinced that what’s good enough for the Bushmen, the Carthaginians, and the Aztecs should be good enough for us. Ah, the millennia! Ah, the wisdom of ages! How arrogant it would be to think we knew more than the Aztecs—we who don’t even know how to cut a person’s heart out of his chest while’s he still alive, a maneuver they were experts at.
… Prohibiting gay marriage is discrimination.
6/26/2015: Chief Justice Roberts calls the wrath of Han and Carthage down upon American people
NYT report and obituary here.
I’ve worked in Wolf Point Montana, read a few books about wolves (but nothing as good as J. Frank Dobie’s The Voice of the Coyote
Retired rancher and rodeo announcer weaves hats for babies. The Bend Bulletin has the story, here.
In the Register Guard, here.
I sleep better at night knowing we’ve got nuclear submarines with nuclear missiles, manned by men with a personal stake in freedom:
I’m old enough to remember back when the Supreme Court would only make unanimous rulings on civil rights cases, because they all believed that any dissent would leave an opening for racist crazies to tear the country apart.
Now the NYTimes reports that the court has decided they can’t be bothered to listen to the religious crazies opposed to gay marriage, and that this means it will soon become the law of the land, by default. Good for the court, and good for the people who made this revolution.
The NYT has the disappointing news on the exchange rate.
In the Oregonian, here.
LBJ signing the civil rights act. A calm, convincing, and inspiring speech:
And while I’m on the subject of personal liberty, I feel the need to mention my fellow Tandem High School graduate David Garner. David’s eloquent junior year book report presentation on Robert Moses’s biography of LBJ forever changed my opinion of LBJ, David, and freedom and juvenile delinquents in general.
David was trouble from the start. He knew how to hot-wire a car, and when he needed to get to a party he would. But he’d generally leave it back near where he’d borrowed it, to save the owner any unnecessary inconvenience.
After HS I convinced him to skip out on rehab and come work in the Montana oil fields with me. When his crew moved from Idaho to Heber City, he got me to ride his Norton Commando down to Utah for him. It broke down of course, so my friend Chuck and me bought a 1969 Ford 150 for $250 in Pocatello and put the bike in the back. When the truck broke down we rewired the ignition with an extension cord, and when we finally got to Utah we gave David the truck. Somewhere I’ve got a picture of him sitting in the side basket of a Lama helicopter, catching a ride back from the seismic line before a storm closed in.
David died at the age of 28, along with three other fishermen, when their boat capsized in a night-time squall off Homer, Alaska. His body was never found, and I never got the Blind Willie Johnson LP he’d borrowed back:
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