"All Britanni stain themselves with vitrum (woad?) which produces a dark blue color, and by this means they have a horrible aspect in battle." Julius Caesar, Gallic Wars, Book V.

There was a time when the inhabitants of what is now England were rather fierce chaps. But the Romans did eventually subdue much of the island, and over the centuries these Celts became as used to the finer things in life as their Roman masters - you know, the baths, the grapes being dropped into their mouths, etc. You get the picture. When the Romans left, these urbane Britons had to hire Anglo-Saxons to fight their battles for them; and we know how that turned out.

Rome of course, left because they too were having some of the same issues. They hired Goth boys to do what Roman boys could not, or would not, do - face off against the Huns. In the end, though, it was not Attila that sacked Rome. It was Alaric... the Goth.

We should keep such things in mind as we go about training our little boys to behave like little girls, and not do what little boys naturally do. For the day may come soon - and it will come - when we will have to ask those boys to secure a beachhead under fire. And on that day, we will be praying that our "training" didn't take.

The recent news coming out of North Korea is that men have to cut their hair like Dear Leader. Or something like that. I think it might be a rumor, but it still inspired some really exhaustive research (typing into search engines) on my part. I found this: http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/2013/02/21/north-korean-hairstyles-pyongyang-salons-menus-state-sanctioned-crops-pictures_n_2733715.html

Men apparently have ten options for hairstyles. Women get a few more.

Making decisions about your hair is hard. It makes sense to free the people from their personal dilemmas by nudging them into ten-option corners. But ten is probably too many. The options are all so cool!

I think U.S. military members have more options than North Koreans when it comes to hairstyles. http://www.armytimes.com/article/20140320/NEWS/303200060/New-Army-grooming-appearance-regs-leaked-online

What's the North Korean policy on tattoos? Limit one portrait of Dear Leader per body?

Southern Europe during the early Middle Ages had many fine examples of horse flesh, in part due to surviving Roman breeds, and in part due to magnificent Arabian breeds brought to the continent via the Moorish conquest of Spain. In Northern Europe and the British Isles, not so much. Here was the home of the humble Palfrey - an comical shaggy beast looking rather like a slightly over-grown Shetland pony.

Ah, but the Palfrey had a neat trick. People even slightly familiar with horses know that they generally have four "gears" or gaits: walk, trot, canter and gallop (Yes, yes, there are purists who say a gallop is just a fast canter). Riding a horse at a walk is quite relaxing. It seems as if the world is going by in slow motion, but that's because it is. An extended trot will shake any loose fillings you may have right out of your mouth. Andcontrary tothe old westerns, a horse cannot sustain a canter/gallop mile after mile. But the Palfrey could AMBLE - a smooth, sustainable and fairly swift fifth gait that could get the rider where he was going in short order, and comfortably. Today, there are still a few breeds that can amble; Iceland is famous for them. When teams riding these make their entrance at horse shows, there are polite giggles, as if the crowd is expecting a rodeo clown act. The captain uncorks champagne, pours each rider a full glass, and then they zoom around the ring three times, stopping at the judges booth to toast and down drinks that have not lost a drop - and the crowd goes wild.

What's this got to do with our liberty, you say? Well, picture England in your mind like one of those ant colonies you can buy, with the little critters going to and fro. Before carriages with strap suspensions and better roads, it was the humble palfrey that facilitated the exchange of ideas, goods and services throughout the realm. They became as valuable as the finest war horse (Destrier) - and living symbols of shifting priorities.

A ruling class and its courtiers living well in the capitol district as the outer provinces commoner struggles. The panopticon surveillance of citizens. A state so monstrously indifferent it's ruined the healthcare of millions. A feral bureaucracy waging a shadow war against its master regime's enemies. And a supposedly free people, themselves either so inattentive or corrupt, that they allowed it all to happen.

Fifteen years ago, this would have been an interesting exercise in science fiction world-building. Now, not only is that world built, but we're trapped in it.

To be sure, dystopian SF is fun. At least in fiction, the bad guys have a chance of getting their just comeuppance, the loathsome order they've imposed often falling by the end of such works. And it's easy to see why authors like writing it: not only does it fit with the zeitgeist, the genre almost by default makes the protagonist's cause heroic and the stakes high.

But I'd like to see some brighter vision of the future, too. What a novel experience it would be, reading something recently published that was set someplace one wouldn't mind their children living in. Stories where the society is worth protecting. Where a majority of your fellow citizens aren't one class of ungrateful parasite or another, where the press doesn't constantly lie to you, where "govern" isn't a polite euphemism for "bully".

I realize that this wishlist reads like a recipe for utopianist fantasy. That's more a sign of how far gone modern America is than a reflection on the request's merit.

How about it, authors. Coming up with a future more worthy than the present's slow-motion apocalypse--it doesn't get any easier than that.

See for yourself: http://bostonherald.com/news_opinion/columnists/howie_carr/2014/03/carr_elizabeth_warren_writes_new_chapter.

Carr likes to refer to Senator Warren as "Granny" (as in the Beverly Hillbillies), and that brings out the self-righteous ire of all the nags, scolds, and bluestockings on the left. As a public service I am proposing a new nickname, "Cheeky." Senator Warren frequently explained that the family lore, which was the basis of her claim of Cherokee ancestry, relied on the notion that she and her relatives have "high cheekbones." Hence, "Cheeky." This can't possibly be racist or sexist, because it's the feature that she refers to with obvious personal pride.

Now that Cheeky's nickname is settled, let's talk about "You didn't build that." This is her signature argument--that individuals don't really innovate or accomplish anything on their own because...roads. Thomas Edison invented the electric light bulb, records, and movies, but it was the government that did the heavy lifting. Now that's cheeky!

And what about those roads? Haven't they always been there? As in deer paths becoming game trails growing into traces, turnpikes, and highways? Hasn't every culture from time immemorial had roads? OK, maybe nothing like I-95 between Miami and West Palm--heckuva road. But how can the likes of Cheeky and Obama--was he reading her teleprompter?--stand up and say we need to expand government involvement in our lives because we use the roads we paid them to build?

OK. Here's a road that I'm willing to give Obama full credit for. It's a bicycle and pedestrian trail that begins at the Silver Reef Hotel Casino Spa outside of Ferndale in rural Whatcom County, Washington. The paved, elevated, fenced, solar-lit trail proceeds for two miles in a generally southwesterly direction--and then it ends. Cost to build it: $1.71 million. Funding source: The American Recovery and Reinvestment Act.

Nicest bike path I've ever seen. Didn't do squat for the economy.

"What makes him contemptible is to be held variable, light, effeminate, pusillanimous, irresolute, from which a prince should guard himself as if from a shoal."

Niccolo Machiavelli

Last summer, I met Tom Wilkinson, an art photographer who lives in Brooklyn and sports a hipster beard. His wife Alissa was a professor of mine. I've since spent hours at their apartment, poring over Tom's graphic novel collection (including Sandman, Fables, Unwritten, and much much more), playing Mass Effect and watching Buffy on their giant TV, and discussing current and future writing and art projects. It was through this connection that I learned about Tom's narrative photography project.

Four years ago, Tom started a labor of love exploring friendship in the 21st century, a project to create a series of still, cinematic images that tell interlocking stories about overlapping groups of friends. Exploring romance and platonic love in a modern city setting, the parts of a series are meant to be viewed in order to properly communicate the narrative.

This photography project is a complex and detailed enterprise. Each photo shoot requires as many hours of set up and prep time as a typical film set would need. Actors need to be cast; schedules need to be coordinated; and props, lighting, and furniture need to be set up to make the perfect shot. Every click of the camera costs $6, and every end photograph is so detailed that only one can be produced per shooting day.

As of now, about forty out of a total of sixty-five images have been created. Tom and his merry band of dedicated actors and volunteers are embarking on the last leg of their long journey, and need to raise $10,000 more to complete the project. They're in the home stretch, but they need all the help they can get to make it past the finish line. Please consider becoming a part of this beautiful and intricate expedition by giving to Tom's kickstarter. If you have a desire to see unique photographic art in this world, your contribution won't be wasted.
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/tgwilkinson/tg-wilkinson-sequential-staged-narrative-photograp

Nov 3. Went drinking with the boys after work. Plenty of bars to choose from in Washington DC. Sometimes you can see one of the superstars like Henry Waxman or Joe Biden or Charles Schumer. They are real men! Makes me tingle all over to think I have the same employer as they do. The government. Bingley disagrees with me on that. Says our employer is the people. Huh. What does he know. He drinks Coors. I drink martinis with little umbrellas in them. Saw one of the Kennedys in the bar this evening. Wow! Not sure which one. He left with a tall, leggy blonde. Someone shouted "get a life preserver!" Must've been drunk. Reminds me. I need a girlfriend.

Nov 9. Job at the National Park Services is getting a bit routine. I enjoy clubbing tourists when they get too close to the Lincoln Memorial or to the Senate Building, but the bloom is off the rose. Yesterday, Harry Reid came down the Senate steps and thanked us for our hard work. At least, I think that's what he said. Words were kind of muffled due to the handkerchief he had covering his nose. Apparently he has sensitive olfactory nerves. I tried not to breathe in his direction as I had Italian for lunch. I still need a girlfriend.

Nov 22. Met girl of my dreams! Jill Schnabel. Bingley introduced me to her at a party. Apparently she was his blind date but they were not exactly meshing. Then he cackled like a crazy man and ran away. Jill works at the Department of Education. Policy writer. Went to Vassar and majored in post-industrial re-genderism. Jill is also a vegan wiccan and rescues pure-bred Tibetan mastiffs in her spare time! Very well-rounded! I'm in love. We're going to a sit-in at Georgetown next Saturday to protest their football team. Jill says football is a reactionary and antiquated leftover of our violent imperialist past. Refreshing to meet someone willing to make a stand. She says she's bringing pepper spray and will beat the crap out of any counter-protestors.

Let's do an exercise. Close your eyes. Imagine yourself on a beach.

Wait. Never mind. We're not at the beach.

Waitwait. I can't type in Braille. Open your eyes.

Let's do this instead:

Imagine that you're a General in the United States Army. You're married, with children. You've worked hard. Defended your country. You've sacrificed.

You've earned stuff.

Maybe the power gets to your head a bit. Maybe the new Captain in S-2 has been giving you the eye during the weekly briefings.

Then you're all like, "Hey gurl."

And she's like, "Hey boi."

Champagne pops off. Fireworks. Velvet. Lots of velvet shit everywhere.

You da man, boss. It's new, it's bad, it's FUN.

And maybe that goes to your head. Maybe that Lieutenant in S-4 gave you a wink the other day when you went to change out that old vest you never wore for the new one your troops hate.

So then you're like, "Hey gurl."

And she's like, "I like power."

And you're like, "Me too."

"Oh?" She says, her lips curling at the corners. "We have so much in common."

"Yeah." You put your hands on the wall and bracket her into the corner with your arms.

But she's not sure now. She's looking around. Eyes shifting. "But what if we get caught?"

Silly girl. "Pffttt! I run dis shit."


All right. I'll stop there. I don't know the details. Not sure I care. Looks like a big ol' mess. But the mess seems unnecessarily messier when the penalty for several (and serious) UCMJ violations is... a slap on the wrist.

http://www.military.com/daily-news/2014/03/20/army-general-fined-reprimanded-in-sex-case.html?comp=7000023317843&rank=1

Really, I wrote this just to see what kind of mentality it would take to carry on affairs and sexting (or whatever) and who-knows-what-else, and then turn around and, almost flippantly, muse, "All I want to do now is go north and hug my kids and my wife." Do whaa?

Maybe his wife's all like, "Oh hell no - your shit's all in the yard. Go run dat."

I mean, somebody has to knock the pegs.

Right?

I just finished reading Stone Cold, which is Box's 14th offering in the Joe Pickett series. If you haven't read any of these, Joe is a fish and game warden stationed in a fictional town east of the Bighorn Mountains in Wyoming. An incredible amount of criminal activity is routine when Joe's around. He steps outside his job description to investigate and then confront the bad guys; things "get western," so there's plenty of action that can keep you up, reading, until you reach the end.

That said, the plots are only one-fifth of the reason I've read all of these books. Here are the other four, in no particular order.

1. Landscape. Box does a great job evoking the atmosphere of the Rocky Mountain west. There's nothing quite like the "pure solitude" and "white isolation" of a long winter drive on a Wyoming highway, and Box captures that feeling perfectly.

2. Town life. It all happens in bars with dusty, sometimes mangy, hunting trophies with Christmas lights strung through the antlers; early morning coffee shops; and earnest conversations in hardware stores. Again, pitch perfect.

3. Libertarian ideas. Box's characters complain about "crony capitalists," the intrusiveness of the federal government, and the corrosive effect of welfare "transfer payments" on the out-of-luck local population. But be careful: some of the biggest libertarians are the bad guys.

4. Western gothic. The realism referenced above notwithstanding, Box's stories are fueled by gothic craziness--and I like that combination. Symbolic crucifixions in hunting camps and on wind turbines. Spectral hunters with uncanny tracking abilities. Crop circles, cattle mutilations, and characters brought back from the dead like zombies. At times, there's almost the feeling of a Scoobie-Doo adventure--with epigraphs from Voltaire and Hank Williams Jr.

What more could a reader want?