We are watching a movie about the Irish Republican Army and the British legal system. As you know, the judges, barristers and solicitors in British courts wear powdered wigs. My wife says, “Culture is so strange. Would you ever wear a wig? How would you pick the wig you want to wear?” I look up at the screen, see the accused sitting in court, and reply, “What is the difference between a wig and a necktie?”
Frank Zappa once said to a concert audience, “Everyone in this room is wearing a uniform, don’t kid yourselves.” And so we are.
Today we discovered that a pair of woodchucks (groundhogs) have taken up residence in the boulder wall above our driveway. They seem to enjoy the ready supply of greens in our landscape, a garden buffet at their doorstep if you will. Tomorrow, I figure out how to convince them to move elsewhere, before our plantings suffer and our wall is undermined.
Meanwhile, in Libya, a NATO missile has killed several people (civilians they are called under some circumstances, bystanders at other times, innocents somewhat rarely) who had the misfortune of being near its intended target, Col. Muammar Khadafi.
The difference between my being alive and my being collateral damage: where I live and what my neighbor does. I am fortunate that I live in the USA and that my neighbor is not a terrorist. If were a Libyan, having a woodchuck living next door would probably be OK.