Bob Jensen's Tidbits

A poem begins in delight and ends in wisdom
... in a clarification of life -
... a momentary stay against confusion.
Robert Frost.
I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken	We raised a simple prayer Before we left the spot, That in the general mowing That place might be forgot; Or if not all so favored, Obtain such grace of hours, That none should mow the grass there While so confused with flowers. Robert Frost, Rose Pogoni	But he turned first, and led my eye to look At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook, A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared. Robert Frost, A Tuft of Flowers
Ah, when to the heart of man Was it ever less than a treason To go with the drift of things, To yield with a grace to reason, And bow and accept the end Of a love or a season? Robert Frost, Reluctance	Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep. Robert Frost, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening	We heard, we knew we heard the brook. A note as from a single place, A slender tinkling fail that made Now drops that floated on the pool Like pearls, and now a silver blade. Robert Frost, Going for Water

A poem begins in delight and ends in wisdom
... in a clarification of life -
... a momentary stay against confusion.
Robert Frost.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference
Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken

We raised a simple prayer
Before we left the spot,
That in the general mowing
That place might be forgot;
Or if not all so favored,
Obtain such grace of hours,
That none should mow the grass there
While so confused with flowers.
Robert Frost, Rose Pogoni

But he turned first, and led my eye to look
At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook,
A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared
Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared.
Robert Frost, A Tuft of Flowers

Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?
Robert Frost, Reluctance

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Robert Frost, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

We heard, we knew we heard the brook.
A note as from a single place,
A slender tinkling fail that made
Now drops that floated on the pool
Like pearls, and now a silver blade.
Robert Frost, Going for Water

*West Running Brook* by Robert Frost
'Fred, where is north?' 'North? North is there, my love. The brook runs west.' 'West-running Brook then call it.' (West-Running Brook men call it to this day.) 'What does it think k's doing running west When all the other country brooks flow east To reach the ocean? It must be the brook Can trust itself to go by contraries The way I can with you -- and you with me -- Because we're -- we're -- I don't know what we are. What are we?' 'Young or new?' 'We must be something. We've said we two. Let's change that to we three. As you and I are married to each other, We'll both be married to the brook. We'll build Our bridge across it, and the bridge shall be Our arm thrown over it asleep beside it. Look, look, it's waving to us with a wave To let us know it hears me.' ' 'Why, my dear, That wave's been standing off this jut of shore --' (The black stream, catching a sunken rock, Flung backward on itself in one white wave, And the white water rode the black forever, Not gaining but not losing, like a bird	White feathers from the struggle of whose breast Flecked the dark stream and flecked the darker pool Below the point, and were at last driven wrinkled In a white scarf against the far shore alders.) 'That wave's been standing off this jut of shore Ever since rivers, I was going to say,' Were made in heaven. It wasn't waved to us.' 'It wasn't, yet it was. If not to you It was to me -- in an annunciation.' 'Oh, if you take it off to lady-land, As't were the country of the Amazons We men must see you to the confines of And leave you there, ourselves forbid to enter,- It is your brook! I have no more to say.' 'Yes, you have, too. Go on. You thought of something.' 'Speaking of contraries, see how the brook In that white wave runs counter to itself. It is from that in water we were from Long, long before we were from any creature. Here we, in our impatience of the steps, Get back to the beginning of beginnings, The stream of everything that runs away. Some say existence like a Pirouot And Pirouette, forever in one place, Stands still and dances, but it runs away, It seriously, sadly, runs away	To fill the abyss' void with emptiness. It flows beside us in this water brook, But it flows over us. It flows between us To separate us for a panic moment. It flows between us, over us, and with us. And it is time, strength, tone, light, life and love- And even substance lapsing unsubstantial; The universal cataract of death That spends to nothingness -- and unresisted, Save by some strange resistance in itself, Not just a swerving, but a throwing back, As if regret were in it and were sacred. It has this throwing backward on itself So that the fall of most of it is always Raising a little, sending up a little. Our life runs down in sending up the clock. The brook runs down in sending up our life. The sun runs down in sending up the brook. And there is something sending up the sun. It is this backward motion toward the source, Against the stream, that most we see ourselves in, The tribute of the current to the source. It is from this in nature we are from. It is most us.' 'To-day will be the day....You said so.' 'No, to-day will be the day You said the brook was called West-running Brook.' 'To-day will be the day of what we both said.')

I constantly walk into a room and I don't remember shy. But for some reason, I think there's goin to be a clue in the fridge.
Carline Rhea --- http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caroline_Rhea

I'm not afraid of death. I just don't want to be there when it happens.
Woody Allen --- http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Woody_Allen

Sixty-one women in the U.S. military have been killed by hostile fire in Iraq — more than twice as many female casualties suffered since women were allowed to join the military after World War II. The number indicates that women are playing new roles in combat zones. The Army acknowledges that the policy governing female soldiers in combat is unclear and outdated.
Jack Zahora, "Army Policies Don't Keep Women Off Front Lines," NPR, August 27, 2007 --- http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=13961298
Bravo America --- http://www.cs.trinity.edu/~rjensen/video/BravoAmerica.asf

A jury consists of twelve persons chosen to decide who has the better lawyer.
Robert Frost --- Click Here

Lobbying for Big Brotherism in Academe
But this is a particularly egregious case (Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid's blatantly political slipped-in-lobbyist amendment to restrain file sharing in academe) because it enforces rules that are specifically inimical to education, and that run contrary the fundamental mission of a college or university—the sharing of information. The reasons colleges have given for not wanting this sort of regulation are that it would be costly and outside their purview or expertise, and that it would be burdensome and likely ineffective. Of course, they insist, to a man or woman they oppose piracy.
Crispin Sartwell, "Policing the Academy for Pirates," Reason Magazine, August 22, 2007 --- http://www.reason.com/news/show/122097.html

Two years after Hurricane Katrina emptied New Orleans, more than 90,000 evacuees live in Houston, permanently it seems. Life for all of them has been difficult, and their stories are a mix of sadness, loneliness and triumphant hope . . . This is Houston's right hand, the one that gives to the evacuees. It gives them its powerful economy, inexpensive new homes in far-flung suburbs, and public schools collectively educating Asian, Indian, black, white and Hispanic children. Taken together, it is a powerful offering.
Wade Goodwyn, NPR, August 27, 2007 --- http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=13979111

The combined risk of mortgage defaults and heavy debt loads has overtaken terrorism as the biggest short-term threat to the U.S. economy, according to a survey of economists being released today.
Sudeep Reddy and Kelly Evans, "Debt Issues Top Economists' Fears," The Wall Street Journal, August 27, 2007; Page A2 --- Click Here

James Taranto (Wall Street Journal Editor) shows how motivation of insurgents is changing in Iraq. His video is fascinating at
http://online.wsj.com/public/page/8_0004.html?bcpid=86195573&bclid=212338097&bctid=1163964953
We've learned a lot about the 24,000+ detainees in August versus 16,000+ detainees in February of 2007. Less than 40% are al-Queda-like Islamic fundamentalists. Most are criminal mercenaries that are "terrorists for the money" because they're getting paid. This means that they're also amenable to changing sides to the highest bidder. Taranto suspects that many of these so-called insurgents were common criminals released from prisons rather than political prisoners that were not released.

A U.N. report says 95 percent of the world's opium comes from Afghan fields and poppy production there is expected to top all records this year. Mark Schneider, a senior vice president with the International Crisis Group, talks with Renee Montagne.
"Record Crop for Afghan Opium Poppies," NPR, August 27, 2006 --- http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=13966242
Jensen Comment
The Taliban's struggle in the past few years is largely a drug turf war. When allied armies chase the Taliban out of an area, they sneak back as soon as the armies leave, especially when in the season of poppy harvesting.

Two British soldiers from the same battalion have been nominated for the Victoria Cross in recognition of their incredible bravery in the face of the enemy. The citations for Britain's highest gallantry award came after the men were involved in fierce fighting against the Taliban in Afghanistan. The first is Captain David Hicks – who would become the first officer to win the VC since Falklands hero Lieutenant-Colonel Herbert 'H' Jones. The second is believed to be Lance-Corporal Oliver 'Teddy' Ruecker, 20. Last month Capt Hicks, 26, refused morphine when mortally wounded in order to lead a counter-attack against a Taliban rocket assault.
Mark Nichol, Daily Mail, September 2, 2007 --- http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/news/news.html?in_article_id=479329&in_page_id=1770&ct=5

The latest twist in the global warming saga is the revision in data at NASA's Goddard Institute for Space Studies, indicating that the warmest year on record for the U.S. was not 1998, but rather 1934.
"Not So Hot," The Wall Street Journal, August 29, 2007 --- http://online.wsj.com/article/SB118835472067611877.html

To many gringo observers, Hugo Chávez is merely a mildly buffoonish, if delightfully brave, left-wing populist; a blustering, swaggering caudillo who used the UN lectern to unmask the current American president as the physical incarnation of the devil; a cherubic strongman sidling up with politicians like Rep. Joe Kennedy and London Mayor Ken Livingstone in order to unburden the empire of capitalism's victims.But he is also the man who has declared his eternal friendship with Libya's Col. Gaddafi, Belorussian dictator Alexander Lukashenko, Iranian leader Ahmadinejad, Zimbabwean tyrant Robert Mugabe, Sandinista commandante Daniel Ortega, imprisoned terrorist Carlos the Jackal, Saddam Hussein and, of course, Fidel Castro. Amongst the gringo masses, this side of Chávez is rather less well-known. In the new book Hugo Chávez, Venezuelan journalists Cristina Marcano and Alberto Barrera Tyszka provide the non-Spanish speaking reader with the first balanced account of the Venezuelan president's troubling rise to power. They also offer a clearer picture as to why Chávez, rather than simply anointing a capable and ideologically sound successor, desperately clings to the presidency.
Michael C. Moynihan, "The Caudillo in His Labyrinth: Hugo Chavez and his enablers," Reason Magazine, August 23, 2007 --- http://www.reason.com/news/show/122122.html

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