Trying to read the Quran...

Almost impossible for me, experienced though I be with the loud-yelping clamorous barbarity of the Judaeo-Christian Bible, and even (to a lesser degree) with the tame, 19th century Mormon Bible-likeness of preposterous barbarity--even so, I'm finding the Quran tough going, hard to grasp, too palpably absurd.  Surely there is somewhere a Muslim catechism, or doctrinal gradus that will lead me step by step among the the thorns and nettles of Islamic dogma?  Already, I am slumpt beside the way, hopelessly and with helpless laughter contemplating the number of times that I may be divorced (from a woman) before I get serious.  Not only am I lost, I have no wish to be rescued.  

But Milo, Milo, there are some things you just can't say:

"There's nothing intrinsically wrong with pedophilia" is one of those things.  Of course, in general, I agree--but do you find me saying it?  For one thing, I'm not entirely sure that it does not harm children; which is why I've never committed an act of it, even though, on several happy occcasions long ago, I enjoyed, as a ped, being the object of it.  

Nay, oft in dreams invention we bestow...

Though I attributed the effect to my nightly draught of Trazodone rather than to the sublime intervention of Sylphs, I woke several times last night, at approximately two hour intervals, deeply immersed in the deciphering and adding-to of a wondrous grimoire of a sort of a Fitzwilliams Virginal Book expressly contrived for rendering on the Duke of Ferrara's (Nicola Vicentino's) diabolical (31 semitones per octave) Archicembalo: Daunces, Fancies, Toyes, Ayres, and not a few duets and part-songs.  Such that when I woke I cried to dream again.

Trump vows to be "ruthless" in fighting drug trafficking

And in so doing declares war on the American people, 60% of whom favor drug legalization.

The Devolution, or Dissolution--unless it's simply the Disaster--of Trump in the first WEEK of his presidency

is bemusingly spectacular.  Even I, who always love the strangling of a sultan, am somewhat taken aback by the absolute, no-quarters contempt being shown by everybody towards the object of all our execration.   Saying that Trump is Putin's puppet, or that Trump is a Nazi who wishes to revive the death camps, as cartoonists do now already openly say, is tantamount to insurrection.   It is time for us who are farthest from the centers of power to figure which way the colossus will fall, and which hapless innocents the cyclopean fragments of the immense effigy will crush.

That's what you always try to figure when a Coup d'État is in the air.

And I always bear in mind:  However bad things may have been under the ancien régime, the 5th of September, 1793 through July 27, 1794 was worse.  Infinitely worse.  

What would I do without Netlix?

The new, bloated Netflix is a treasure house of but a few rare gems glowing and glittering amongst Gargantuan cesspits of vulgar, meretricious trash. Among the glowing and glittering gems, however, perfect and unsullied, is Le Voyage au Groenland.  Delightful, funny/sad story, beautifully acted, superbly produced.  (Hey, and no sex of any kind whatsoever!)