Anchor Struck

Happy belated astronomical spring, everyone! Belated because I’ve spent the last several days wrestling our microhydro and domestic water pipes. I knew I’d won when our m-h meter showed we got back above 80% battery capacity, then when our kitchen sink stopped spitting and gurgling. Plus we hit a rockin’ 14 degrees Celsius (57 Fahrenheit) recently. Now I can start on my outdoor projects.

All the better. I can’t resist watching TV news like you can’t look away from a car wreck. I continue to marvel over Trump’s political gravity, drawing precious little comfort from believing that the longer he stays aloft, the harder he’ll crash. He will always have the advantage of being ethically unmoored.

I worry in particular that he is Commander in Chief of forces he doesn’t respect or understand. There are 5000 or so Marines in or on the way to the Mideast, with 50,000 other U.S. military there already. As a former Leatherneck, I can tell you with pride, awe and trepidation that 5000 Marines can do a lot of damage. There are rules of engagement, to be sure, but Aging Orange delights in smashing norms. If his reach exceeds his grasp in the Gulf, though, I think the Adults in the Room will have to be the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Congress is currently gutless.