The Post-Partisan Emporium

  Civil War 2.0 Weather Report: A Date With Destiny “You hear that, Mr. Anderson?  That is the sound of inevitability.  It is the sound of your death.  Goodbye, Mr. Anderson.” –  The Matrix   I heard that Epstein got a clue to the inevitable – the last guard he tried to fist-bump left him hanging. Those who have an opposing ideology are considered evil. People actively avoid being near those of opposing ideology.  Might move from communities or states just because of ideology. Common violence. Organized violence is occurring monthly. Common violence that is generally deemed by governmental authorities as justified based on ideology. Opposing sides develop governing/war structures. Just in case. Open War. Volume VI, Issue 6 All memes except for the clock and graphs are “as found”.  I’ve kept the Clock O’Doom at the same place – though it will notch up quickly if there are any signs of the TradRight stiffening up. This is a moving situation, and things are changing quickly.  The advice r

  Invasion Of The Water Snatchers Texas ranchers are fighting “green” hydrogen projects. “It’s a ridiculous amount of water.” Sister Mary Grace and Sister Mary Michael, outside the  Carmelite Monastery of Our Lady of Grace , on August 15, 2024. Photo by author. Drought has hit Schleicher County hard. Lots of the stock tanks are dry. The only plants that appear to be thriving on this part of the Edwards Plateau are scrawny mesquite trees and the ever-present prickly pear cactus. As we turned onto County Road 339, the clouds of dust from the unpaved road were so thick that I slowed down to assure there was at least 100 yards between my vehicle and the tailgate of Ray and Sandra Pfeuffer’s pickup. It was the afternoon of August 15. The dashboard in our 4Runner showed the outside temperature was 103 F. The sun was relentless. There was almost no wind. A bare handful of clouds dotted the sky. The Pfeuffers, who raise goats and cattle on a 3,300-acre ranch about a dozen miles southeast of Ch

  Mirages Edward J. Curtin, Jr. I am sitting on the beach at the National Seashore, a forty-mile long stretch of the Atlantic Ocean seashore on Outer Cape Cod, established in 1961 by President Kennedy.  The wind is whipping hard and the waves are running wildly high against the shore, and, to paraphrase Thoreau – the sand is rapidly drinking up the last wave that wets it.  I am looking far out to the horizon where the sun shimmers on what seems to be the world’s watery edge, creating a strange mirage that I wonder at but find hard to describe.  Earlier, I was rereading Thoreau’s  Cape   Cod  in which he mentioned this phenomenon 150 years ago, not just the mirages across the water but those here along the great stretches of sand.  Now I am confused and my mind wanders to other mirages that make me shake my head in wonderment.  It is hard to grasp what one is seeing these days. When Robert F. Kennedy, Jr., a presidential aspirant, folded his cards and conceded the current pot to Donald