July 2017

This will be my last blog post until September—I think. I can't guarantee that some news development won't send me leaping to my keyboard, however, so those of you who subscribe to this blog might be surprised.

So, serious stuff is happening. Like yet another Senate attempt to delay but later slither through a health bill that would literally kill thousands of Americans. Like Antarctica's ice-shelf calving an iceberg almost as large as Delaware. Like the United Nations closing down its cholera-vaccination campaign in Yemen because the rampant spread of the disease there, combined with growing famine—both of which are side-effects of the devastation of war—would obliterate vaccination efforts. Not that anyone really gives a damn about Yemen, where a proxy regional power struggle, 1400-years-old, is being waged between (Shiite) Iran and (Sunni) Saudi Arabia, currently proxies in turn for (pro-Iran) Russia and the (pro-Saudi Arabia) U.S. Except now that Russia might be TrumPutinizing the U.S., well, Yemen's dispensable, like road kill. Can you imagine just how bad things must be for the U.N. to announce it's triaging an agonized little failed state—the poorest in...

This blog post is about six Afghan high-school girls who are robotic engineers. It's also about the recent loss of a major French feminist, and about advice from a great aviator, too. Intrigued?

The personal is political. Well, yeah, I admit it: it was a good phrase years ago, challenging the notion that feminism was just "personal stuff." It's a good phrase still, with ever widening applications. So this blog post is personal—in the most political sense.