You are inspiring me to write about the monkey on my back that I am fighting. It is a substance that is perfectly legal, comes in pink bags or boxes with two initials on the label. Fighting the MF is not sweet.

Thank you for the philosophical insights but I prefer to be a little more grounded in my musing.

First, being driven to what would otherwise be an irrational act, apparent suicide, as a consequence of an act of murder, the terrorist attacks on two occupied high rise office towers using stolen air passenger jets, complete with passengers, doesn't keep the choice made by the individual from not being a suicide. I am taking the position that this is your point.

Let me suggest that what the "Falling Man" image depicts is a murder in progress. In that image I see…

The Goddess is coming and she is, well not in a good mood would be something of an understatement.

Under the circumstances, let me suggest that this article has seriously contributed to my consideration to become a vegetarian.

You gotta figure when someone's white great grandpa calls them out for being racist, how does the song go, "... a change is gonna come."

Well done. Further support for the adage "religion is the last refuge for a scoundrel", especially a socially and culturally indulged and privileged scoundrel.

Amusing. I was making coffee, as a child, for adults for quite some time before I was ever able to bring myself to actually drink the stuff. And of course it had to be heavily ladened,with cream and sugar, heavily ladened. One cup was usually more than enough. It wouldn't really be finished, as it were. So then I decided to cut my sugar intake (different long story). And it occurred to me I should drink coffee black. No additives whatsoever, just me and the caffeine. And a funny thing happened. I liked black coffee. …

The day before I read your brilliantly thoughtful and informative piece, I was thinking about my childhood in St. Louis, Missouri. During the summers of the 1960s and 1970s. a popular entertainment was a river cruise on the party ship the SS Admiral.

The trips were fun, however, I would always find myself looking at the stones that lined the wharf area knowing that they had been placed most likely by Black slaves.

The final scene of the film An Unmarried Woman features Jill Clayburgh carrying a large unwieldy art piece down a busy New York City street. She's just broken up with her lover the artist and has refused to return to her unfaithful ex-husband. Made quite an impression on me at age 18.

Daphne Macklin

Veteran Cat Servant

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