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.

Donald Trump's cesspool of lies, financial crimes, and likely treasonous acts against the United States are finally being investigated, so now he's whining that he's the victim of a "witch hunt." Well, I know a bit about witch hunts.

Plans change. I'm tempted to write about Jared Kushner. I'm tempted to write about Trump's mortifying adventures abroad. Even before either of those stories broke, I'd intended to focus this week's post on the alternative to impeachment.