The Talking Dog on 9/11

 

On this day I always turn to my friend the talking dog who was in NYC - not far from where the towers of the WTC once stood.

9.11 + 24.0

And so we’re back. It’s 24 years on. Almost 10% in the life of our relatively young republic, almost 40% of my own life, since that fateful day (it was a Tuesday, and quite sunny, not unlike today in downtown N.Y.C., where I sit a few hundred yards from the WTC, as I did on the day itself; but I digress).

Given how traumatic 2024 was in Stately Dog Manor (I am pleased to report that the Loquacious Pup appears to have come through with a good recovery from her extremely unpleasant illness and has resumed her studies in graduate school), I have very little to say about 2025. Political violence, including but certainly not limited to the improper use of federal military personnel on the streets of American cities, has now been normalized, as has the use of “executive orders” at odds with statutes and the constitution, all while a supposed “opposition party” appears to have disappeared. The murder of a [Republican] political troll is an occasion for national lowering of flags to half mast, unlike the murder of [Democratic] lawmakers and legislative leaders.

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