Cease Fi-- Incoming!

     In the wake of the U.S. bombing of several nuclear-work sites in Iran, there was supposed to be a cease-fire between Iran and Israel.  The President of the U.S. said so.

     Their militaries don't appear to have gotten the message.  I don't know if their governments have.  Each is accusing the other of going back on the agreement.

     I'm not chortling at Mr. Trump's disappointment (he was chiding the Israelis on social media not long ago).  I'm certainly not cheering on the conflict; it is messy, with missiles, bombs and drones striking civilians along with their (presumed) military targets, in a region already filled with tragedy.

     Who ever calmed a hornet's nest by shaking it?

It's Alan Turing's Birthday

     It's Turing's birthday, a day to remember that the brilliant mathematician and computer theorist was an enormous part of the UK's early lead in developing computers -- until he ran afoul of laws criminalizing private sexual behavior.  Turing was gay, at a time when same-sex acts were illegal, and after arrest, trial and conviction, he lost his security clearance and was effectively unemployable in cutting-edge work.  Subjected to harsh and unusual treatment that sidelined his solo efforts, he is believed to have committed suicide.

     Approve, disapprove or ignore his affectional leanings as you wish, but bear in mind the cost to free individuals and to society in general when prejudice is made law.

"Don't Put It In The Paper That I Got Us Into A War"

      The United States of America both is and is not presently at war with Iran.  If you ask the Administration, someone like, oh, Vice-President James David Vance,* you'll hear that of course the U.S. isn't at war with Iran, only with Iran's nuclear-bomb program.

     The thing about war is that the other side gets a vote.  Flip it around; say the Royal Theocratic People's Republic of X†, no, Z‡, er, Y decided that American nuclear weapons were a clear and present danger and by dint of either remarkable aerospace engineering or a sabotage organization that leaves SOE in the dust, levels Pantex.  Downwind of that event, would you suppose our government might consider the act tantamount to a declaration of war?

     It's likely that the Trump Administration's avoidance of calling it an actual war is an effort to dodge having to go to Congress for retroactive permission, hat in hand and bearing a "What I Did With The Military This Summer" essay as called for in §1543 of the War Powers Resolution (U. S. Code Title 50, Chapter 33) -- and the problem with that is, despite the title, the Resolution doesn't give a damn if it's called a war or not; Congress gets involved "in any case in which United States Armed Forces are introduced— (1) into hostilities or into situations where imminent involvement in hostilities is clearly indicated by the circumstances; (2) into the territory, airspace or waters of a foreign nation, while equipped for combat, [...] the President shall submit within 48 hours to the Speaker of the House of Representatives and to the President pro tempore of the Senate a report, in writing, setting forth— (A) the circumstances necessitating the introduction of United States Armed Forces; (B) the constitutional and legislative authority under which such introduction took place; and (C) the estimated scope and duration of the hostilities or involvement."

     Only Congress has the power to declare war, and as far as Congress is concerned, only they get to decide to wage warlike activities.  They've been in the habit of passing legislation that amounts to an advance pass for the Executive Branch to get into specific fights, but even then, they want to have just enough engagement to claim credit if it works out okay -- and the Constitution gave them the responsibility.

     It's a tissue-paper barrier, one that only holds up as long as everyone plays by the rules.  "Playing by the rules" has not been a hallmark of the Trump Administration.  Nevertheless, it is there and Congress isn't liking the taste of it.

     Governments in general have a fondness for short, victorious wars.  Armed conflicts are real morale-boosters.  Governments also have a well-established history of misjudging the duration of such wars and the likelihood of success, and governments that put the decision-making for wars in the hands of one man have been especially bad at this.  Mr. Trump has got his war, however much reluctance his Executive Branch has to call it one, and we'll be finding out how that goes.  Congress has issues of its own to figure out, having to do with Separation of Powers and being treated with caviler disregard -- and we'll be finding out about that right along with them, too.

     The issue is a splitter, hawks and "Christian Nationalists" on the pro-war side (the latter are thrilled by the prospect of "war in the Holy Land"), "America First" isolationists opposed, proceduralists (sincere and opportunistic alike) among the Democrats and Republicans appalled at the manner in which the action was initiated. 

     Interesting times.  I loathe living in interesting times.  Couldn't we have a few decades of dull muddling-though instead?
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* His present chosen name, changed first from James Donald Bowman as assigned at birth and most recently, informally, styled as "JD Vance."
 
† A little bird twittered No.
 
‡ And likewise, a bear.

Fascists, Begone!

     A recent news story neatly encapsulates the present moment: a student at the University of Florida's law school wrote a paper for one of his classes arguing the U. S. Constitution was intended by the framers to apply only to white people, and only they should be allowed to vote -- and the Trump-nominated judge who taught the class awarded him top marks for it.

     The student had expressed similar views in the past, writing that non-white people should be given a decade to leave the country and that naturalized aliens were never supposed to be more than second-class citizens.  The University stood on viewpoint neutrality and free-speech rights, correctly pointing out that people have a right to speak their minds.  What finally got him in trouble was a posting on the former Twitter, saying Jews must be abolished "by any means necessary."  That resulted in his being suspended and barred from the campus, and increased police patrols in the area; the student sued and the case will work its way through the courts.  (One key issue is the difference between an abstract "should" and a concrete "must."  Holding outrageous opinions is one thing; advocating criminal action is very much another.)

     That's Trumpism in a nutshell: push to the limits, reward prejudice, and then see how much farther they can go.  This is just one example but the pattern is repeated over and over, and the people pushing the hardest often embrace the idea of violence even if they do not take action themselves --  the Florida law student wrote that if U.S. courts failed to create white rule, the matter would be resolved "not by the careful balance of Justitia’s scales, but by the gruesome slashing of her sword." Whatever a society rewards, it gets more of. This is what Trumpism rewards.

     This not what American society should reward.  That's not a matter for polite debate over tea and cookies, it's a core value.

A What, Now?

     A local radio newsperson just told me over the air that the storms that knocked out my electricity the day before yesterday -- and that of hundreds of thousands of other people along their track -- also spawned "Eee Eff Oh" tornadoes.

     Tell me you're reading copy in a "book" font like Times New Roman without telling me you're reading Times New Roman.  Old-time paper wirecopy from an Extel dot-matrix printer or an older Teletype Model 15* had a dot in the center of the zero or a slash through it, preventing confusion between "0" and "o" in the all-capital-letter output.  So, too, did some computer fonts.  Local newspeople, if they were leaving a story for someone else to read, were careful about making the distinction when they typed it up.  "Orator" was a popular typewriter font (especially in television), simple and clear.

     But it's 2025.  Nobody (well, hardly anyone) prints this stuff out and the "wire machine" is not consuming several reams of fanfold paper a day: there's no reason not to spell it out.  Those E F zero tornadoes can be just that.

     A person reading news copy has enough to do.  (Try it sometimes.  Don't go too fast!  And remember, you've got to make the sentences make linear sense using only intonation and pacing.)  These days, they're scrolling through their script with a hand or foot controller, reading it a line or more ahead if they've been in the business longer than a few weeks; in TV, they're taking it from the camera-front prompter while a producer talks in their ear and in radio, they're running their own levels, watching the clock so they don't get steamrollered by the next ad or program and making sure all the sound bites are ready.  Scoping out a "0" from an "o" (even if you typed it yourself) doesn't need to be among the tasks.
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* Mechanical teletypes made the most wonderful rumbling clatter, a sound that meant "news" to several generations; stations used to hang a microphone in the wire-machine closet and run the sound at low level under newscasts, or to at least under the opening.  Those mics were still there when the cheaper, simpler dot-matrix printers replaced the Model 15 -- and made a sound like tiny robot farts as they printed.  Somehow that noise never caught on.  

Juneteenth

     Today is Juneteenth, the day the last group of enslaved Americans of African descent learned they were slaves no more.

     Our country fought a bloody war over a matter that most major countries had already ended through legislation.  The UK ran well ahead of us in this effort, and while many people celebrate this day -- and it should indeed be celebrated -- it's also a good day to remember that doing the right thing is not always easy, quick or painless, and we're not always in the lead.  History is not a perfect, smooth upward curve. 

In The Dark

      A string of bad thunderstorms rolled across Indiana late yesterday afternoon, catching me on a break at a bookstore near work.  About five o'clock, the power went out.

     Work has a generator and an automatic transfer switch.  The bookstore, not so much.  The traffic lights, not so much.

     I was near the North Campus, where various street projects have snarled the already-busy traffic.  From the bookstore, I could see the intersection I'd need to cross to get back, a six-crossing-six (counting left turn lanes) with a two-block backup in at least two directions.  The intersection kept jamming up, minor fender-benders and gridlocks as drivers tried to sort out how to accommodate the left-turn lanes when a dead stoplight defaults for a four-way stop.  In theory, right-of-way precesses around the intersection counterclockwise, a system the works well enough when a pair of two-lane roads meet.  If no one is turning left, it often devolves into taking turns, alternating the north-south and east-west (etc.) streets.  The multi-lane version with left-turn lanes can work that way, too, but it's complicated and all it takes is one driver getting out of sync or in a hurry to bollix the whole thing.

     So I waited, texting Tam at home, nearly seven miles away: "STAYING SAFE?"
Tam: "OK.  POWER IS OUT HERE."  That was about 5:15.  I checked the power and light company's outage map, and they showed small outages everywhere, with a few bigger ones indicated.

     By six o'clock, power was still out and the bookstore decided to close.  They let the remaining customers put our selections on hold and gently shooed us out.  The big intersection was still a mess.  The store is in a large strip center and I scouted around the parking lot in my car: the way to the south, where the street narrows to a lane each direction, was moving pretty well, so I took it, aiming home.  A mile down the road, the traffic light was out, and churning through it was slow.  Two miles on, the light was working, and I was able to turn.  Next stoplight was out, but with lighter traffic, going smoothly.  From there on, including crossing Meridian Street, a major north-south artery, all the traffic lights were okay, businesses open, houses lit up -- until I got to my neighborhood.

     I drove down in front of my house.  The porch light was out: no power.  That meant the garage door opener would be out, so I parked in front and went in.  I had leftovers in the freezer, and with a gas range, that meant it was time to use them up.  Not too long after I arrived, there was an ugly gazonking noise from the direction of the substation a few block away, surely a sign of progress.  I made dinner and Tam and I watched the little battery TV in the kitchen while we ate, thinking the lights would come back on at any moment.  Nope.

     We cleared away the TV trays and dishes as best we could; by then it was getting dark enough we broke out flashlights.  I plugged my phone into the fat backup battery I keep charged up just in case, and went to bed with a book on my iPad.

     It wasn't a good night for sleep.  I kept waking up in the dark, wondering where I was and remembering, lighting the iPad back up and reading until I dozed off.  Eleven p.m., midnight, two a.m., three....  At four-thirty, I was startled awake by eye-searing brightness through closed eyelids!  I'd apparently flipped the switch for the overhead light at some point, and, the power being out, left it on.  That sixty-Watt light might as well have been a flashbulb.  I got up, turned it off, wandered out to the kitchen in time to see the light in the garage go out, went out and checked that the garage door was down, and went back to bed.

     Almost twelve hours without power.  Everything in the fridge is inedible except for Tam's soft drinks. my peanut butter cups, the UHT milk I keep in there because it's better cold and maybe the oranges.  I don't know about the contents of the freezer but I don't feel like trusting to luck.  Trash day is tomorrow and it's all going.

     We have had worse.  I think the power was out for nearly three days after the flooding Spring storms shortly after I moved in, but it hasn't been that bad since.

How Not To Get Published

     Unlike many blogs, this one has a comments section -- but it's not automatic.  I screen comments.

     From time to time, one of my perennially-unpublishable commenters accuses me of "censorship."  Nope, sorry, that's not what it is.  Censorship is when a government (or, occasionally, another powerful entity) suppresses your expression by law or force.  All I'm doing is exercising editorial discretion.  You can say whatever you like on your own blog, or in a comments section that I don't control, or paint your opinions on your own wall.  But this is my blog, and I decide what gets published.  If you want a soapbox, there are plenty available elsewhere.  This one is mine.  I am not obliged to provide equal time for differing opinions.  Just as you are not allowed to daub your slogans on my fence, you don't get to use my comments section as your megaphone. 

     What doesn't get published includes (but is not limited to) comments I deem to be inflammatory or excessively partisan, statements of opinion presented as fact, any unusual claim unsupported by evidence, and anything I suspect of being a cute attempt to smuggle in signals (if your screen name is "Horst1488," your comments are never going to be approved).  If I think your comment is too far off-topic, it's probably not going to get through screening.

     These decisions are a judgement on the comment itself or, in the case of "Horst," on the commenter's lack of taste.  They are not a judgment of the commenter themselves, nor do they represent an endorsement of the opinions expressed in the comments that do get published.

Still Making Them Famous

     It is with resignation that I note news media are still making killers famous, just as long as their victims are numerous and/or famous.  It doesn't make any difference where you look -- Fox News, over-the-air TV networks, NPR: Coverage of the attacks on Minnesota politicians gives the attacker's name over and over, mentioning the names of his victims only once or twice.

     Credible reports put that killer firmly on the political/religious Right, but that doesn't matter, either; an insurance executive was shot down on the street by a guy from the Left or the muddled middle (he hasn't been as easy to figure out) and you're ten times more likely to know his name than the name of the man he killed.

     This kind of killer appears to succeed more often when they're mentally askew.  Perhaps more motivated; perhaps they're more likely to take an unusual approach.  But we know that many of them are attracted by the idea of recognition: their crime will make them famous.  It's not a sane evaluation, but as long as we continue to put the names of these killers in banner headlines and treat their lunacies as worthy of recognition, the incentive remains.

Late Posting

     It was an overwhelming weekend, filled with the kind of stuff that ends up in history books -- footnotes, if we're lucky, but I'm not liking our luck just now.

     I have avoided the news this evening and for all I know, we're at war right now.  Or maybe just in the middle of a Tweet, Truth and Skeet storm from the Commander-in-Chief and all the assorted pundits.  Don't know.  Surely it will either wait, or hit too hard and fast to matter.

It's Father's Day

      My Dad has been gone for eighteen years now.  I still miss him.  In some ways, he left a few years earlier; his memory failed him and his last few years were spent as a relatively pleasant stranger among other strangers; but I believe he knew he was loved.

     If your father is still around, take a few minutes to spend with him, even if you don't get along.  He won't be here forever.

A Ditty For The Day

      We used to get it.