Myths, treason, and cats on roofs . . .

Thursday, March 26, 2026. It's Thor's day . . . the heat dome remains over Green Country. Forecasts for TulseyTown indicate a record-setting hot day in the 90's with strong, gusty Southerlies after noon.

The genuine path of unminding is not a religion for the immature – Zen Master Fen-yang.

The suspicious timing of trades in S&P 500 and oil futures on Monday about fifteen minutes before Trump announced his team had been negotiating with Iran—although it hadn’t—has raised public accusations of insiders trading on national security information and thereby endangering Americans. – Heather Cox Richardson, in Letters From An American posted for today.

Liability judgments and warning labels are not enough to protect children from becoming addicted to social media. – Robert Reich, substack, 3.26.26

More birthdates of note . . .

Erica Jong is 84 today, born in 1942 New York City. Since Fear of Flying, Jong has written 20 more books — nonfiction, fiction, and poetry.

Richard Dawkins is 85 born in 1941, Nairobi, Kenya. He is a British evolutionary biologist, ethologist, and popular-science writer who emphasized the gene as the driving force of evolution and generated significant controversy with his enthusiastic advocacy of atheism.

Nancy Pelosi is 86 today. She was born in 1940, Baltimore, Maryland.

It's also the birthdate of the first woman to serve on the U.S. Supreme Court, Sandra Day O’Connor. She was born in 1930, El Paso, Texas.

Mythologist Joseph Campbell (The Hero’s Journey) was born on this day in 1904, New York City.

American dramatist Tennessee Williams was born today in 1911, Columbus, Mississippi.

And, Robert Frost was born in 1874, San Francisco, California He was the most highly honored American poet of the 20th century, receiving the Pulitzer Prize for poetry four times.

Good Hours

I had for my winter evening walk—
No one at all with whom to talk,
But I had the cottages in a row
Up to their shining eyes in snow.

And I thought I had the folk within:
I had the sound of a violin;
I had a glimpse through curtain laces
Of youthful forms and youthful faces.

I had such company outward bound.
I went till there were no cottages found.
I turned and repented, but coming back
I saw no window but that was black.

Over the snow my creaking feet
Disturbed the slumbering village street
Like profanation, by your leave,
At ten o’clock of a winter eve.

– Robert Frost, “Good Hours,.” This poem is in the public domain.