All that Norman Borlaug has done, at current rates, is make it possible that 12 billion humans will be fighting over that last drop of potable water when the Great Die-Off begins.

High-technology farming didn't solve any problems, it just deferred them to a time when the lemmings will have farther to fall.

Could we not test Wallace's hypothesis of a "brain-independent consciousness" by putting his brain in a blender and measuring the consciousness that is left? Of course, we'll need to rely on reports from other mystics with 2,500 years of training, since all that science will be able to see is grey putty.

Earth to H. sapiens: From the time you are old enough to grow hair in your armpits, you will be hardwired to want to fuck someone, anyone. It will seem enormously important.

Anyone care to guess the age of puberty when Romeo thought Juliet was worth dying for? Deal with it.

Unless I'm missing something, the United States Constitution doesn't have much leverage in Canada.

Mom deeds the house to LW and her hubby. LW and hubby borrow enough to pay off the existing liens. Mom pays the amount of the old first mortgage as rent, and LW and hubby make up the difference. Mom invests in her eternal salvation, LW and hubby own the equity in the house when Mom cashes her chips.

For the last decade and a half, Washington and Benton Counties in the northwest corner of Arkansas (home of the new Wal-Mart Regional Airport)has been one of the fastest growing metropolitan areas in the U.S. I'm now seeing a surge in lawsuits against electrical and plumbing contractors who can't pay their bills. It's everywhere.

Intelligence, decency, a frank curiosity, and content that matters. From out here in the world trade center of the Arkansas Ozarks, it looks like Leonard has found a way to make a living having fun for himself and providing pleasure for us. What's not to like?

The Net is your friend.

What we now call December 25 was first celebrated as the birthday of Mithras, the sexless-born son, savior-god of the central diety, god of the sanctity of contracts, for several centuries before the fierce misygonists from Rome (actually Constantinople back in those days)first co-opted Mitrasism, not to mention the apparently wonderful cycle of the Saturnalia, back in the 4th Century CE, and converted Christanity into a political tool.

The winter solstice celebrations that Garrison wants to celebrate as a resonance of the DNA of his pale-skinned Northern Hemisphere ancestors are of much more ancient vintage.

It's generally accepted that Stonehenge is nothing more that a Druid physical calendar, with the sun's shadows telling the annual cycles. The Anasazi living in their bluff dwellings had caves with spirals gouged into vertical rocks that would trace the sun's shadow at its farthest northern reach in the winter and southern reach in the summer; they weren't ancient, but their culture was from the Stone Age.

Those who live in cities may no longer think they need to care, but the axis of my wife Ruth's dining table will line up directly with the notch in Boat Mountain out on the southeastern horizon of the Arkansas Ozarks where the sun will rise on December 21 this year. The date changes; the axis does not. Fail to notice at your peril.

Back in the day, the stored food and the saved liquor did not come out until after the sun had turned back north. Garrison's gap-toothed girl could not have known for sure that her ancestors' sacrifice was not necessary to turn the sun, but our ancestors would have had her singing.

Don't deny her Dad the same pleasure.

What we now call December 25 was first celebrated as the birthday of Mithras, the Persian savior-god, born sex-free as the son of the central diety, god of the sanctity of contracts, and for the first several centuries of what the enlightened call the Common Era (CE) a much bigger deal in the eastern Mediterranean basin than that Jesus guy.

Christians didn't co-opt the date, not to mention the Saturnalia festival associated with the eponymous Roman god, until the fierce old misogynists from Rome (actually Constantinople back in those days) first made Christianity a political tool back in the 4th Century CE.

Last time I looked, and it's been awhile, the best guess was that Jesus was born in the spring of the year 4 BCE, which happens to be the same year that Herod died, which is sort of necessary to the narrative. The date doesn't much matter, because the rhythm we feel is of the Earth.

Winter solstice celebrations, which are what really resonates in the DNA that Garrison inherited from his pale-skinned Northern Hemisphere ancestors, are of much more ancient vintage.

It's generally accepted that Stonehenge is nothing more than a Druid physical calendar, with the sun's shadows telling the annual cycles. The Anasazi living in their bluff dwellings out at the Four Corners had caves with spirals gouged into vertical rocks that would trace the sun's shadow at its farthest northern reach in the winter and southern reach in the summer; they weren't ancient, but their culture was from the Stone Age.

Those who live in cities may no longer think they need to care, but the axis of my wife Ruth's dining table will line up directly with the notch in Boat Mountain out on the southeastern horizon of the Arkansas Ozarks where the sun will rise on December 21 this year. The date changes; the axis does not.

In the old days, in the Northern Hemisphere, the feasts started, and the larders of stored food and wine were opened, just those few days after the sun started back north on the horizon. These days, we are so sure the cycle will repeat that we can let Garrison's most recent gap-toothed girl begin the celebration early, without worrying that her virginal self will need to be sacrificed to reverse the cycle.

Don't worry about letting him be happy.