I really don't have the time to blog, but I will anyway. Please, just take it for granted that things are really busy right now.
I read some of the most chilling words ever this morning. In this comment over at Jon's place, we find that our friend, Mark, is alive and well in Iraq, and that "rockets are landing on base every day". This makes me feel very cold, and rather helpless. I've had aquaintances in a theater of war before, but Jon, Mike and Mark are more like brothers to me (certainly much closer to my heart than my actual brothers are). That phrase about the rockets, rather off the cuff as it is, makes me mad in a frosty homicidal kind of way. The bastards shooting those shells are playing wack-a-mole with a friend of mine, and "Bring-em-on" Bush is the one who put him there as their toy. Don't think I'm getting political about this; this kind of emotion is apolitical, and should be. Mark should be home with his wife, not playing explosive dodgeball in the desert.
(And just for the record, don't, I repeat, don't try and make my feelings evidence for whatever agenda you have. That would be a mistake.)