Big Old Mammals and Some Bad Rain

I have always been fascinated by the question of why the very large land animals, megafauna, seemed to evaporate. What is more puzzling is why two groups have arisen around this question. One group insists that the extinctions were due to climate change while the other insists that it was due to overkill by humans. It is even more puzzling that both groups have evidence supporting their hypotheses. Or is it?

It seems to me that the most likely explanation is that both climate change and overkill combined to lead to the demise of megafauna.

Like most biologists, I am familiar with ecological models including pressure due to climate factors and predator-prey cycles. In my hypothesis, I contend that a shift in the climate put pressure on all the mammals, including humans, by decreasing resources and forcing more direct competition. It also seems likely that secondary ecological pathologies also arose. For instance, there could have been increasing susceptibility to disease due to starvation, stress from inter-territorial competition for breeding grounds, and general crowding in grazing and/or hunting niches. Large mammals also tend to have fewer offspring and longer gestation periods which would have placed an additional burden on population replenishment.

Any major alterations in these relationships could have led to shifts in the simple Lotka-Volterra predator-prey model as well as adding other survival variables not easily incorporated, since competition would begin to overlap. In fact, these relationships may be better represented in a matrix model. But clearly, at some point, less adaptable species would reach the nadir of their oscillation and fail to recover. Certainly, humans would have capitalized on their own growing numbers, and learned behavior, to seal the fate of whatever megafauna was their target.

However, while what I propose seems reasonable in North America, it may not be justified in more equatorial regions. The point being that any hypothesis of megafauna extinction may have to reflect a different geographical reality and, thusly, may differ from another hypothesis. In other words, thinking in matrix terms, some variables would be stronger than others depending on where the species in question existed. Climate change would be expected to be a much greater factor in the upper latitudes than near the equator. Another reason that many computer models fail in megafauna extinction prediction, is that some variables are never even considered. For instance, fauna-driven seed dispersal, as studied in the Pantanal region of Brazil, which contributes to proliferation of particular food resources.

Nonetheless, I doubt my hypothesis could be original as it seems very likely that other scientists would also recognize the possibility of multiple etiologies converging to extinguish a population.

-Just a peasant

Photo of a fossilized Thylaoleo carnifex skeleton, an Australian lion that was also a marsupial – from the South Australian Museum.

An American Mullah

So a US Attorney General has deemed it righteous to punish reporters for disclosing classified information. Mr. Gonzales, we stand in awe of your intellectual prowess.

Sir, I am humbled by your ability to assimilate lessons from the noble endeavors of so many other world regimes in history that have also found it necessary to silence reporters: the ex-Soviet Union, Nazi Germany, Peru, North Korea, Cuba, China, Turkmenistan, the Taliban, Iran. You sir, are truly are a man of the world.

I admit that I am not quite clear on how exactly a reporter is to know that information is classified when it is, in fact, given to them by a government official. If I was a reporter, not having your imperial wisdom on these matters, I would naturally assume that anything they said was indeed, unclassified. I mean, after all, why in the world would they ever divulge state secrets to a simple peasant like me?

But Sir, I do have one thought. It seems that, by your supreme reasoning, it would then be perfectly acceptable for a father that often uses obscene words, to smash in the face and break the bones of his four-year old child for suddenly repeating one of those obscene words.

Mr. Gonzales, according to your specious and unquestionable logic, we should never punish government officials for the reckless disclosure of classified information as it is actually those, foolish enough to listen to the officials, that should be hanged. And indeed, we could even reanalyze history with your lucid and provincial expertise. We could see that slavery in early America was not the fault of the slavers, but of the Africans who were stupid enough to get captured. We would recognize that it was not the fault of the Japanese that Pearl Harbor was bombed, but of the Americans that were lazy enough to let themselves be bombed. We would no longer need to blame the HIV virus for destroying people, as it is clearly the AIDS patients who allow themselves to contract the virus. And certainly a man is not to blame for raping a woman, for it is clearly her fault for possessing the very items he desires.

Yes Sir, I can only conclude my adoration of you by noting how many other persons in the world hold your magnificent and gracious ideals and, of course - wishing that you were my child.

Note: this is a corrected post as it got mixed up with another post that I was writing about a supreme court justice - sorry about that.

My Memories of Being Homeless – Of Life

Another good place to sleep was in storm drain pipes because most of the time it was actually pretty dry. In the winter it protected one from the wind while in the summer it was cool. You could also hear anything that was coming. Sleeping was okay except for the rats which you could always hear scratching somewhere deeper down the way. And rats are strange too. In a house they scramble away in fear, but in the pipes, if you slept too heavily, they would come to investigate. You would awake to find some poking at your hands and ankles and they would be aggressive about it. In the pipes, they were not afraid. After I learned about these different predators, I would wake intermittently and toss a rock into the darkness to keep them away.

Sleeping during the summer was the most miserable because the mosquitoes are never ending. They somehow always find ways through the clothing and newspaper to get at your skin. Sometimes it was so bad I would go find a church or school parking lot and sleep in a bus.

Besides food, my most important daily mission was bathing. Inventing ways of keeping clean was honestly quite amusing. Sometimes, at about 3 in the morning, you could find a motel or apartment pool, dive right in, and be gone before anyone noticed. The chlorine cleaned me up really well which also meant that I could hang out in the public library the next day without attracting too much attention. One time, during the winter, I got lucky and found a leaking, hot water pipe behind some factory. For a week I had my own hot spring – that was sweet.

But there were beautiful moments too. During one summer night I was wandering through some woods. I slid down into a small rocky, river bed and then, quite suddenly, there were fireflies everywhere I looked. Not a few, not dozens, but hundreds of them. It was simply stunning.

Another time, I stood out on an open Texas plain while a thunderstorm rolled in. It was a very powerful storm with lighting bolts constantly on the horizon. I was the only thing standing out there for a couple of miles except this one huge, old oak tree. I could hear loud creaking and popping sounds as the wind pushed its branches around. I stood out in the storm, adrenaline flowing, yelling at the top of my lungs as it came closer. It was terrifying and exhilarating. The wind and thunder were so loud I could barely hear myself. I stood there yelling up at the clouds until the rain came pouring down on my face. It felt great.

Sure it was dangerous, but I was homeless and young and destitute - what did I have to lose?

-Just a peasant

Photo from the gallery of Piers Allison

Homelessness - The Predators - Of Food - Of Life - Of Despair - Of Hope

Your Brain is not a Computer – Part 4

"I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser gate. All those moments will be lost in time - like tears in the rain. Time to die."- Roy from the film Blade Runner

Finally, what about people that want to change their personalities? What about those people that strive, through countless self-help regimens and plans to improve their life outlook and social interactions? They may not want a static neural architecture forever confining them to their flaws. And besides, what’s wrong with flaws? We are all overflowing with flaws. I have never had a perfect lover either, but nonetheless, many of them were extraordinary women and despite our differences, there is nothing I would change about them.

More importantly, perfection itself is clearly not a characteristic of our human civilization. Even the ability to innovate does not require perfect knowledge of a subject. How would you ever program inspiration? It’s one thing to reconstruct the electrical foundation of motor functions or to stimulate a spatial cooperative of neurons, but it is another thing entirely to duplicate the neurochemically- modulated memories and personality of an established individual.

It is partly the dream of immortality that drives this idea of computerizing the personality - and rightly so. Because unfortunately, it is a profound sadness of life, for some of us, that all of the work we put into constructing our own individual personalities – education, romance, tears, laughter, introspection, victories, defeats – all must come to an end. This is true no matter how great or small our intellectual horizons.

Will we ever be immortalized by transferring our personalities and memories to an artificial neural fabric? Perhaps, but for now, I would strongly advise – carpe diem.

-Just a peasant

Photo of neurons in the hippocampus (one important site of memory and mood) from the Franklin Institute

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Your Brain is not a Computer – Part 3

In the game of chess, you don’t have to worry about your castle suddenly assassinating your own bishop, or your queen having an affair with one of the opponent’s knights, or your pawns revolting and refusing to move forward. In chess, you don’t learn to improvise, you just learn patterns. To master chess is no more extraordinary than a kid who masters all the levels of a video game in a week or a person that memorizes all the religious scriptures of a holy book. Chess is for robots. Improvisation is for humans.

Deep Blue is held up as a pinnacle of brain modeling. But what do you think would happen, if Deep Blue were engaged in a chess match and, several turns in, you told Deep Blue, “The opponent’s king has been removed from the board because he died of a syphilitic infection and the queen has now seized the throne. The queen can still move in any direction but is limited to five squares. The bishop still moves diagonally but has been granted the movement of a knight as an option. Finish the game.”

How well could Deep Blue improvise on this information? How long – how many games - would it take for Deep Blue to rebuild a competitive matrix? I don’t know the answer. I am only suggesting that, with a human, there is a slight adjustment and not a major reprogramming.

MRI image with regions of interest (ROIs) from BrainMiner

Part 1
Part 2

Your Brain is not a Computer – Part 2

You might argue that, yes, the brain is not a linear system but functions instead, like the non-linear systems which could then be handled by something like a computerized fuzzy logic system. Perhaps you would be right.

For instance, if I induce a focal lesion, into a region associated with a mnemonic skill, which also ablates the function, regions nearby will become hyper-metabolic in an attempt to redress the ablated function. In other words, the skill can still potentially be recovered, just through a different pathway. The question is can a computer duplicate this accurately? Perhaps it could.

Nonetheless, algorithms for things like differing physiological states must be established. For instance, there will need to be a defined system to express differences in male and female brain physiology, not to mention people who do not fit the heterosexual model of brain activity. I’m sure that gay men and women, as well as transsexuals, will wish to preserve the treasured aspects of their personality. Therefore, fluctuating, reproductive hormone effects will have to be recapitulated. However, I doubt that many would wish to duplicate the deterioration of hormone status due to aging – but still.

Our personalities can also fluctuate around our metabolic states. You will need to reflect the effects of caffeine and glucose. People love their coffee and chocolates. People like nicotine too. Yet computers don’t eat - though they might byte. Sorry, that was really bad.

And what of love, both transitory and long-lasting? Where are the algorithms to reflect these states – these endorphin waves? How will you modulate the pools of serotonin sadness that ultimately make life sweeter to some of us, but worse for others? You realize of course, that many people, including artists and musicians, are inspired through depression.

And what about those dreams that sometimes set our mood for the day? Will you emulate those? How will you program random memories or memories sometimes elicited by a fragrance? If I save a file in a computer it has an exact address but, if during neurosurgery, I touch an address twice with micro-forceps, the memory elicited the first time is not the same one as the second time.

My argument is that there will need to be far more than a duplicated, 3D architecture to even come close to replicating a personality much less the memories that constitute a personality.

-Just a peasant

Photo of neurons (blue) and astrocytes (red) in metabolic poses from Cornell

Your Brain is not a Computer – Part 1

There are many people who believe that the brain processes information in a fashion similar to that of a computer. This idea is based on the simplest function of brain cells involving the chemical synapses of the neurons. In this model, information is transmitted linearly from a pre-synaptic neuron to the post-synaptic membrane. Pre-synaptic neurotransmitters are released, bind to receptor proteins on the post-synaptic membrane, and open ion channels causing a change in the potential of the post-synaptic cell.

Some believe that by merely copying the exact architecture of the brain onto silicon transistors, a person’s personality could eventually be artificially recreated. What they fail to take into account is the process of neuromodulation and neural plasticity.

Although the primary structure of the neural network is genetic, neurons undergo changes in function and organization even in the adult. This reality underlies things like long-term memory and learning that are both important components of the personality.

A neuron is not a static unit but is instead, temporally dynamic. Its receptor milieu may change in response to changes in the frequency of stimulation. Hormones, particularly the reproductive hormones, also have an important influence on the responsiveness of neurons and the brain as a whole. For instance, the feed back systems of the hypothalamus are also related to behavioral states.

Just recreating the neural framework of the brain will not reflect the variability of the neuron. In fact, I would argue that merely duplicating the neural architecture of the brain would yield nothing more than an automaton with the functional capacity of a human ant. You will need another whole different set of algorithms.

-Just a peasant

Photo of the human brain (cephalic portion of the nervous system) from the National Institute of Mental Health

Memories of Being Homeless – Of Food

A second important aspect of being homeless concerns food or fuel as the poet Charles Bukowski might refer to it.

You might be surprised at how kind and generous working people actually are. If you sit long enough with a pleasant disposition, many people will give you spare change even if you don’t ask. Even the business man, who has for eleven days straight, previously ignored you, may suddenly drop some change into your aluminum can. Because I did not spend money on alcohol or drugs, I usually had enough change for at least one meal a day. But you must still discipline yourself to ration any food you do acquire since you can’t be sure when you’ll eat next.

But sometimes there is no money. When you are hungry you have to look for food in the trash. Contrary to what many people believe, the dumpster is the last place to seek out food. Food in the dumpster is usually in its worst possible configuration with mold, maggots, and bacterial slime predominating.

The trick is to intercept food while it is still relatively fresh. This means going through the smaller trash receptacles in and around restaurants. In this respect, I was lucky, that not only do American restaurants serve huge portions of food, but also that Americans are very wasteful. The best strategy I found was to hover near the business district at lunch time. Many busy people are on short lunch breaks around the building squares and, eating quickly, they often dump their unfinished lunches into the trash.

You might think of this as totally disgusting. Perhaps it is, but think about it for a second. The food itself was only just being eaten moments before so it’s not rotten. Or maybe you are concerned with the fact that it was recently in contact with a stranger’s mouth and hands? That seems a fairly petty concern when one considers all the different things people do with their mouths and hands when having sex. Am I right? This is about survival afterall.

Most restaurants also have a specific time that food must be rotated off display, discarded, and then replaced by fresh product. If you could figure these times out, there was a good chance you could get to the trash bag just after it was placed in the dumpster. Back then, only a few restaurants ever locked their dumpsters.

The bottom line is this: the brain needs fuel. A good meal goes along way towards clear thinking so, if you’re going to solve problems, make sure you eat something.

- Just a peasant

Of Predators - Of Life - Of Despair - Of Hope

Photo by Getty Images

Memories of Being Homeless – The Predators

My very early years as a struggling bass guitarist were sometimes chaotic and, at one point, I became homeless. People actually become homeless for a variety of reasons. For myself, there were no drugs or alcohol involved but instead, pride and ignorance. I’m certainly not proud of the fact, but I learned about one particular condition of human existence that arises in this civilization. Naturally, I remember a lot of things about being homeless and so this is the first installment of that period of my life.

One of the first problems you encounter as a homeless person is that many other homeless people are predators. Yes, it is true – people who own nothing, do actually victimize other people with nothing. And make no mistake - for homeless women it gets even worse. I don’t mean this as a moral indictment of homeless people, but this is simply the reality of it. Not all, but many of these transients are felons, cons, junkies, alcoholics, sociopaths, and schizophrenics. Fortunately, I was a young, healthy male who no longer drank or got wired and, therefore, remained fairly alert most of the time.

I myself was not a predator and I certainly didn’t want any trouble with anybody. I just wanted to solve my predicament and overcome my own personal failures.

The homeless shelters were very problematic because if you did not have a friend to watch your back at night, you could be dragged into a stairwell, beaten, and have your shoes, few coins, or whatever you had, taken from you. For instance, there were these soda bottle caps that you could find in the trash and then trade in at a fast food place to get free French fries or a hamburger. This one guy kept trying to take my bottle caps until one day, I used a small army shovel to discourage him from any further attempts.

I preferred sleeping under bridges, located just outside of the city proper, so that people could only come at me from one direction. I also used to spread broken glass and metal rubbish around on the concrete to alert me to any approaching transients. Nonetheless, during the cold winter, I twice had to fight to keep my blankets. I still have a small scar on my forearm from a broken bottle that one guy tried to slash me with. It took a long time to pick out all the little splinters of glass. But, on the positive side, I learned that I could fight my way up off the ground from a dead sleep.

My own opinion on aiding a homeless person is this: do not feel guilty if you do not want to give money to a homeless person. You have to make a person by person decision. The bottom line is that you do not know this person or why he is homeless. You do not see what goes on at night in the dark corners of the city. There is always a good chance that this person has preyed on another homeless person or even a regular person. And if you women knew the kind of vile things that are mentioned about you, as you pass by these people, you would probably never pity them.

- Just a peasant

Of Food - Of Life - Of Despair - Of Hope

Photo of a homeless man in Germany by Hartmut Schwarzbach

What new game, for the Sudan, shall we play?

People are already applauding the five American food ships diverted to Sudan. Of course, food aid has been arriving in that country already for many, many years. Usually, the Sudanese government has impeded distribution of food and relief supplies by imposing restrictions on the operating NGOs. I imagine that this same weapon will be used on this newest food influx.

I cannot help but remember a similar noble mission many years ago called “Operation Restore Hope.” Back in the early 1990s, then Secretary of Defense Dick Cheney, organized an effort for US troops to provide humanitarian aid to Somalia. Of course, few Americans realized that several oil companies including BP (Amoco), Chevron, Total, and ConocoPhillips, had leases for oil exploratory rights in Somalia. Nor were they easily aware that Conoco had claimed drilling success with nine exploratory wells though certainly, Somalia’s overall oil wealth was far from assured.

Since when has the American government ever given precedence to humanitarian concerns over those of global competitiveness? Is it possible that this present American administration, with Dick Cheney now as vice-president, is up to the same old game in the Sudan? Could their humanitarian interest actually be driven by oil? Is it possible that they might be jealous of the oil profits being made by non-American companies operating in the Sudan? Is it possible, that their actual concern is with Chinese dominance of the region’s oil through the Chinese National Petroleum Corporation (CNCP)? Is this really all about trying to contain the machinations of the emerging global influence of China?

Far be it for me to mention that containing China's world influence was a principal strategic concern of this administration when it ascended to power. Who am I to point out that the Sudan is the CNPC's largest venture? Who am I to remind people about little details such as China’s new oil exploratory deals with Kenya and Nigeria? Who am I to point out that the present Sudan situation did not start suddenly a couple of years ago, as the American government would pretend, but back in the 1980s instead?

Perhaps you might take time to skim through this document about the Sudan. It’s about 600 pages long, but I think, by reading through it, you’ll start to get an idea of the true motives of this administration.

As usual, people seem to be celebrating a victory, but they don’t even know who the players are or even what game is being played. Judging by the picture above, I’m not even sure that there will be rules in this new game.

-Just a peasant

Photo of US soldier kicking and “restoring hope” to a Somali kid - from AIDA website

Love and the Bitter Sweet Ocean

Love is not magical or mysterious. It’s not supernatural or divinely granted. It isn’t some treasure waiting to be discovered by those who follow the rules or those that shine the brightest. Love is something we build between ourselves and another human being. We craft it like a sailboat from precious metals and rare timbers; a unique vessel to carry our self and our lover through the brief span of our lives. We can use it to carry ourselves beyond old horizons and beneath new constellations.

It is a place of comfort, so that when oceans rage around us, there is another person to help reef the sails. And with our lover, we learn the idiosyncrasies of our own ship; how to tend it, how it tacks, how it runs with the North wind. And when it is lost and scattered, we can find another person and build another ship. We can learn and we can teach. We can steer a new vessel over towering waves and through heavy mists. We can catch the sensuous ocean spray on our skin and once again wet our deepest passions.

Yet none will last forever, because we do not last forever. But while it does last, we can race beneath the Sun, and beneath the Moon, and beneath a million crystal stars, holding our lover’s hand, and secretly wishing that there really was, a Forever.

-Just a peasant

Photo looking to the center of our galaxy and home - the Milky Way.

The Ugly Hindu and the Forsaken Hindu

It is certain that I am a strong, and sometimes merciless, critic of American culture and government, but this does not mean that I hold a greater and blind regard for other cultures. I am well aware of the absurdities of other cultures, countries, and governments. The fact is that every culture has its beauty and its ugliness. Every culture has its fundamentalists and criminals as well. It seems there is no shortage.

One of the most endeared, yet absurd, statements made by Mahatma Gandhi, was his response to a question about what he thought about Western civilization, to which he replied, “I think it would be a good idea.” It might have been a clever response except that it was both arrogant and hypocritical considering the entrenchment of a bigoted Hindu caste system that readily dehumanizes the less fortunate by making them outcasts and sinners, as well as the reality that India is a country with rampant corruption at every level of civil life. Hilariously, people still buy the notion that Western cultures are materialistic while Eastern cultures are not. I especially enjoy how the religious leaders of the Hindu faith, Brahmins, just happen to be the ones allotted the most privilege and wealth, including the most wives. What a coincidence.

Many people have an attraction to the exotic and this is evident in religion as well as philosophy. It is a reason that some Westerners are drawn to Eastern philosophies and vice-versa. For instance, Deepak Chopra continually markets his notions of mystical, Hindu-based love to a willing and affluent Western audience. Yes, he does this for money despite preaching non-materialism. He also claims that it is a scientific-based approach, but provides only anecdotal statements of praise for his system. Yeah, like we’ve never seen that before.

Deepak Chopra and other Hindu mystics also speak of male aspects that include "protection" and of female aspects like "pure action." However, a NY Times article on the Indian movie Water, cited by 3 Quarks Daily, should demonstrate the true extent of Hindu love and compassion. Yes, the widow of a Hindu man does not fare well in Eastern culture. If she is not burned alive, then she is at best, placed on the back burner. I should mention that new brides are also sometimes burned and disfigured for lack of dowry payments or for other minor transgressions. All this validated by the religious writings in the Vedas. Welcome to the real world of Hinduism.

Here is a suggestion for all the wise and passionate, Hindu gurus who claim to have the power to fly – why don’t you put on a kerosene-soaked sari next time and levitate yourself into the funeral pyre.

-Just a peasant

Photo of an Indian widow from the rather striking gallery of "Bruce" at PBase

Nuclear Nonsense vs. Iranian Rock Music

Over on my friend Neda’s site, A Glinting Glimpse from Above the Wall, she has a link to a site that unfortunately sells t-shirts advocating the use of nuclear bombs against Iran. Just as with the problems concerning the Ayatollah Khomeini back in the 1980’s we are once again shown, not just how enigmatic the Middle East can be sometimes, but also how ugly and ignorant Americans can really be. There will be those who buy such shirts just as there were last time.

Why do Americans, as well as others, react so easily and clumsily to every shadow in the wood or creaking board in the house? Honestly, it’s like watching a herd of sheep change directions every time the dog barks.

I’m not buying it – not the shirt or the hype. What I would like to buy is some rock music from Iran. That’s right, there are rock bands in, and from, Iran. Like the band O-Hum. Having been a bass guitarist, I don’t understand people who would drop bombs on rock bands much less, wear a t-shirt expressing a desire to nuke innocent people. But, when I listen to this clip from O-Hum’s song Manbar, their bass guitarist and I understand each other perfectly. We’re practically twins. I also know, totally, what the drummer is saying and where he is going.

And for all you guitarists out there, I’ve always felt that it was your job to follow the rhythm section. Relax guitarists – I’m just joking! I would not presume to steal your spotlight.

And to O-Hum – you guys are pretty talented. My only production notes (personal opinion) would be to shorten the sections between verses, loosen the kick drum head just slightly, mix the guitar tracks a bit louder and maybe layer a third guitar track on top to get a grungier, thicker sound. But I still like it a lot – I’m not ever going to wear a “Nuke Iran” shirt, but I will certainly wear an O-Hum shirt any day of the week.

Rock Music: 1 - Nuclear Nonsense: 0.

Huzzah!

Photo of O-HUM from the Beethoven Music Center in Berlin

Listen to me about the immigrants

“Wir riefen Arbeitskräfte und es kamen Menschen.” (“We asked for manpower, and we got human beings.”) - Swiss writer Max Frisch on labor migration to Europe.

Some people came here to escape poverty and you would make being poor a crime. Some came here to dream and you would make dreaming a crime. Some came to escape violence and you would make fear a crime. Some stayed here for love and you would make faithfulness a crime. Some have nowhere to go and you would make homelessness a crime.

You would turn your back on these human beings? For what - simple trespassing and a lie? Are you actually suggesting that this is worse than driving while intoxicated, running red lights, or speeding on the highway? Those are all crimes that endanger the lives of other citizens yet you come down harder on the most meaningless of offenses.

Yeah it’s possible that a great influx of people can bring some adversity, but so what? Since when did we fear such things? Since when did we stop solving problems? Where is your courage? Where is your backbone? The laws we have work well enough and those illegal and legal immigrants that are here are certainly not crippling our economy. You should be ashamed of your fear.

Is it possible that our lifeboat of a country could sink and drown us all? Perhaps, but we would die doing the right thing – fighting the good fight. Unlike other fallen empires, we might instead, be remembered for our compassion. It’s called principles and that’s what we were raised to defend, right? Or have you forgotten?

Here, we do not allow mullahs to randomly rape freedom. Here, we do not allow a caste system to burn human aspirations alive. Here, we do not have rebels roaming the countryside at their leisure. Here, we can rage against our politburo without having bullets pushed into our brains. Here, we are the greatest refuge from chaos and hopelessness. It is here that the line is drawn.

It’s my country too, and I say anyone who makes it here can stay.

Did you hear me this time?

Painting by Frank Frazetta