It is always easier to see that something is sinful when an enemy starts practicing it.

You'd think, but that really wasn't the case in the early 30s in Europe. I'd grant your point if he changed his mind after the Holocaust. As it was he was protesting against Nazism as Hitler came to power, well before the horrific evidence of the Holocaust - that's when it mattered most.

You'd think, but that really wasn't the case in the early 30s in Europe. I'd grant your point if he changed his mind after the Holocaust. As it was he was protesting against Nazism as Hitler came to power, well before the horrific evidence of the Holocaust - that's when it mattered most.

No, I know this was before the Holocaust. But it was still an enemy doing it. Most intellectuals in the UK in the thirties understood that Germany and Britain were going to war. So, yes, he gets credit for it being pre-holocaust. But still he did not object until somebody likely to go to war against his country started practicing it. It took that to call his attention to it. And meanwhile the anti-semitic culture he'd helped foster and keep respectable contributed to the Clivedon set that supported appeasement towards the Nazis. The time it would have really counted was not just before WWII but in the decades preceding it.

It's 60 degrees here, sunny with a little breeze -- that perfect early spring day when you have the first softball practice of the season, and the ground is all damp and squshy so that your shoes get caked in mud but you don't care because you're so happy to be back out there, and you don't warm up enough before tossing the ball around so that the next day your arm is *killing* you but you don't care because you're so happy to be back out there throwing the ball around, and everything smells damp and new and just a little fecund.

I just took a long walk, and stopped to chat with a drag queen who was walking 2 pit bulls, both of whom sized me up and decided "This is a human who needs to be licked, now!"

Now I'm eating cheddar and kalamata olive hummus and strawberries. It's a good Sunday.

The time it would have really counted was not just before WWII but in the decades preceding it.

You just know PETA is going to use this argument against us for our non-Vegan diets...

that perfect early spring day when you have the first softball practice of the season, and the ground is all damp and squshy so that your shoes get caked in mud but you don't care because you're so happy to be back out there, and you don't warm up enough before tossing the ball around so that the next day your arm is *killing* you but you don't care because you're so happy to be back out there throwing the ball around, and everything smells damp and new and just a little fecund.

And in fact, Emmett and I have just returned from our first bit of baseball practice. Official team practice is tomorrow, but we spent a good 45 minutes playing catch, shagging flies, fielding grounders, pitching, catching and taking some BP (which ain't easy with two people). Emmett is shockingly UnRusty, considering we've only played catch twice all winter.

And in fact, Emmett and I have just returned from our first bit of baseball practice.

See, somehow I knew it.

I've got B.B. King tickets tonight...deficit spending at its...well, not quite finest, but close. It just seemed like such an omen watching Scorsese's Blues and having him come here.

Oooh, erika, that'll be a GREAT show! I'm jealous.

Cool! Well, not the jealous part...I'm not petty enough to get a kick out of that today.

It's a beautiful day here, too. We were at the dog park, with zillions of dogs all romping around in delight. There was an adorable Portuguese Water Dog there, who insisted on standing in the communal water dish. It was kind of a "I am a water dog and I WILL get in the water and enjoy it. I know it's only two inches deep, but what can you do?" thing.

I just used my last bath bomb, and that was sad. Now, though I should really do laundry, I think a nap is in order. Me = lazy.