Wednesday’s Child: Aftershocks
We had a respectable earthquake here last night, 6.1 with the epicenter in Calabria, and the house swayed like a house of cards.
We had a respectable earthquake here last night, 6.1 with the epicenter in Calabria, and the house swayed like a house of cards.
Of the nearly six hundred weekly posts I have published here since this site was launched, I note that not one delved into what is called natural history.
Gentle reader, please bear with me. I want to make one simple point, but making it requires a longish introduction.
Aldous Huxley, it may be remembered, was not only George Orwell’s senior, but, as it happens, one of his masters at Eton in 1917, teaching the young lad French…
Hopper was very frank in his pronouncements, and one of the truths he imparted was that Clint Eastwood fled California and made for Italy in the 1960’s to escape persecution, ostracism, and unemployment.
The gentle reader is aware by now of my fascination with “true crime,” as it was called when Britain ruled the waves.
I never saw much point in parenthood when my firstborn arrived, anyway not until Nikolai was two or three years old, a bit younger than Vasily is now.
A specter is haunting Europe, the specter of temperance.
Soviet revivalism is in the news because it is an instrument in the toolbox of Kremlin propaganda, but this is not entirely relevant to what I want to say.
It stands to reason that the piloting of a banana republic should be in the hands of banana republicans, but unfortunately we’re not in Latin America and it’s Republicans with a capital R who are at the helm.