… Gravitas restaurant. The phrase is from their website.

I’d like all the details, but I respect her privacy.

… we can notch one little victory.

That only leaves Donald Trump (but – ne quittez pas! we’re def. working on it), Jerry Jones (who loves his coffee so strong it’ll blast the top of your head off), the world’s current trove of tinpot dictators (I already said Trump – who, though out of office, remains a terrible threat to humanity – I mean all the other guys), V. Putin, etc etc etc.

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Though UD will admit to having had a soft spot for Boris. His tousled oddness carries with it a Gilbert and Sullivan Oscar Wilde PG Woodhouse Lord Peter Wimsey something that makes her heart go pitapat.

Doing it a day after a deadly shooting in a Chicago suburb, and a month-and-a-half after 19 children and two teachers were massacred in Uvalde, Texas … lacks morals, decorum, human decency, or any term you’d use for a person who trades their soul for a few dollars and a latte.

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More on the Dallas Cowboys coffee partnership.

Seems richly ironic, but once you drift into theocracy you can certainly expect this outcome.

And I know you’re more taken up with not being annihilated in an American gun massacre, but keep in mind that Harvard’s Adrian Vermeule and his merry band of authoritarian theocrats would love it if America looked like Israel. Only ruled by reactionary Catholics, not ultraorthodox Jews.

Ah cmon! It’s like all those HANG MIKE PENCE chants at our last president’s rallies: Just really, really, violent people having fun.

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It’s nice to think of American kids experiencing their first cup of coffee in Cowboys stadium…

“What’ll it be, buddy?”

“Trying to decide, Dad. Suck my Glock, Kill-Myself-Colt, Mutilate-the-Missus-Mauser and Slaughter on Psychotic Ten-Year-Old Avenue all sound good!”

It’ s not dad’s fault that the kid’s massacre-hopes, in the actual event, fall short of expectations. Dad’s done his bit, enabling the little one to get AK-47s and everything else he needs for really widespread butchery; but once the bullets begin to whirl, wounded people have a way of hiding/running off, or, say, sacrificing themselves to save their children, and these behaviors, plus the imminent arrival of the authorities, will drive your total down for sure.

You try to do everything for your son, give him the best training and the bloodiest guns, yet his kill is pathetic compared to older, more seasoned psychotics like the Las Vegas shooter, whose toll puts all of America’s teenage/twentyish massacrists to shame.

Dads, for starters tell your mad shooters to look for a closed open space. What do I mean by this? The Las Vegas shooter chose an outdoor concert venue, for sure, but there were walls and gates aplenty, making it seriously difficult for people to get away and for authorities to get in. The concert space was also a good distance from stores or other interiors in which one might find shelter.

Another pointer for dads: At a concert, people are all tightly packed together, which makes a far better target than a sequential parade. Also – and here’s a fun fact – Paddock waited until night, when it’s much harder for people to see around them, and to figure out what’s going on.

I don’t want the Highland Park shooter’s father to feel more disappointment in his child than he already does, but Paddock killed 60 and wounded or injured one thousand.

True, your kid did better than the massacrist not far from UD‘s town, who, had he not chickened out, might well have shot to pieces my old friend Di, who was walking to the grocery store on the street right below him as he tried to get up the nerve to kill everyone.

UD proposes that, as soon as gunny dads realize their kid is psychotic and wants to accumulate guns and bombs so he can kill everyone, they ship the kid off to an Idaho militia camp. The state of Idaho is hugely friendly to massed psychotics with guns, and these groups will straighten these kids out in no time.

It’s all in the timing.

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By the way – this blog can also reveal that Nick Kyrgios will be Donald Trump’s chosen running mate in his next presidential bid.

[Philadelphia Mayor Jim] Kenney complained of a lack of gun control in Pennsylvania. The holiday had started out “laid-back” and “chill” before … multiple shootings, he told reporters, “but we live in America, and we have the Second Amendment, and we have the Supreme Court of the United States telling everybody they can carry a gun wherever they want.” He went on to say he would “take care of guns” if he could, but said lawmakers “won’t let” the necessary gun-control measures go anywhere. “This is a gun country, it’s crazy, we’re the most armed country in world history and we’re one of the least [safe]. Until Americans decide that they want to give up the guns, and give up the opportunity to get guns, we’re gonna have this problem,” he said, before adding: “I’ll be happy when I’m not… mayor.”

Trump’s candidate for Illinois governor hits the ground running.

A University of Delaware ecologist speaks.

Anyone who reads this blog knows UD‘s gardens, front, sides, and back, are massively mammalian. Man, I found a MINK in my garden once.

Sometimes I try listing everything that’s out there, but I’m sure I’m forgetting stuff.

rats

mice

voles

rabbits

raccoons

opossums

fox

deer

coyote

squirrel

bat

shrew

moles

chipmunk

ground hog

Plus reptiles, insects, and avians! Never a dull moment.

Sing it.

O Bezumbia! the gem of the river,
The yacht of the richest in the world, 
Your size makes the whole planet quiver,
Before you our bridges all unfurl.

 Yes before you our bridges disassemble.
Five hundred million spent on only you!
Thy selfishness makes decent people tremble,
Three cheers for the red, white, and blue.

Your yacht wing'd its wide ostentation,
And threaten'd our bridges to deform,
An icon of super-greed's creation,
Bezumbia sails its vileness thro' the storm.

Almost there.

… I found in front of the fireplace this morning, overturned and waving its legs about in an effort to right itself. Mr UD took it outside. I think it might have slid down the chimney, since I always forget to close the flue. The whole episode was shamelessly lifted from Metamorphosis.

There’s no free lunge.

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(This is Uncle Miltie.)