There are no happy endings, because there are no endings at all. I've finished listening to the iTunes U lectures from Stanford about the Punic Wars. North African worshipers of Baal, who can be identified with the Roman god Saturn (father of Jupiter) fought the Romans who they considered insufficiently devout in their related religions. Eventually the Romans prevailed and then fell in their turn. Now we are engaged in a great struggle against devout killers from North Africa who consider us insufficiently devout.
Sorry if these are sophomoric observations. I say, I'm sorry, but really if I achieved sophomoric status, I'm doing well; these were freshman lectures.
Today at the post office, I began to argue with my supervisor about being forced to carry a third bundle of mail instead of working the mail into two bundles. It's faster to carry two bundles, but it does take a few minutes to work them together. Eventually I apologized for bringing it up, "I'm sorry," I told her, "I was disoriented by a blinding flash of the obvious." It can happen.
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