So some Science Men made a study, to determine why the humans kill one another. And it seems like they've decided to blame squirrels.

They went all the way back into human history, did these Science Men, and then into the ways and means of the other primates, and then into the lives and loves of other mammals, and, or so they say, they found there some other mammals, that are sometimes about killing each other, and so, they Concluded, that some distant mammal, somewhere back there, must have been the one, that Invented the Killing.

However, this study, it appears, to contain, Libel.

The researchers found that some species, like bats and whales, hardly ever kill each other. Others, like ground squirrels and tree shrews, do so relatively often.

No. There are ground squirrels all over the place here. They never kill each other. I think, that this study, maybe, it is just shit, made up.

Meanwhile, now that the Science Men have established that the oldest continuous civilization on the planet, at 50,000 years, is that of the Aborigines (which renders previous claimants, like the Indians and the Chinese, mere infants); and that the Chinese, they are actually Egyptians; now, the Science Men, they are having a re-think, about the first humans, to invade the Americas.

Previously, it was Science Man-believed, that the first humans to infest the Americas, they trudged over from Siberia, across an icy land bridge, into Alaska. Where they commenced to glumly sit around, for a pretty thousands-of-years long while, until a corridor opened up between a couple of ice sheets in Canada, allowing them to then spread their humanness into all the Americas everywhere.

But now they've tossed that theory out the Science Man window. Deciding instead that the first ur-Americans came down the Pacific coast, either by boat, or along "a coastal walkway." The snow-sitters, up there in Alaska, they still glumly sat in the snow. But by the time they moped though their corridor, well, the water people, they had already been Americaning, for a couple thousand years.

When once they met up, the water people, they called the snow-sitters "losers"; the snow-sitters, they damned the water people as "haters." They all had a Mean twit-storm, and then, when they noticed the squirrels, shooting each other, they decided they might as well have the Killing, too.

The these-days Americans, they will be voting in 30 days or so, and upwards of 40 percent of them, they do not know who are the major candidates for vice-president.

These unknown would-be veepers, they will be debating tonight, and I really don't care, unless the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man, he is introduced and addressed as Stay Puft Marshmallow Man, and is made to identify his three favorite whiskeys, and also to sing "I'll Take You Home Again, Kathleen"; and unless Sixpence, he is made to explain how and why he frightened his hair bone-white, and just how come in the sam-hill he stands at the edge of the woods, scratching his balls, and inviting children to come inside to "get some candy."

I suppose Sixpence could also be confronted with some words from the opinion of the Seventh Circuit Court Of Appeals, which Monday dismissed him as a racist and a xenophobe—just like his master, The Hairball, and all of their people—in blocking the Sixpence attempt to debar Syrian refugees from the state of Indiana.

The governor of Indiana believes, though without evidence, that some of these persons were sent to Syria by ISIS to engage in terrorism and now wish to infiltrate the United States in order to commit terrorist acts here. No evidence of this belief has been presented, however; it is nightmare speculation . . . .

[Sixpence] argues that his policy of excluding Syrian refugees is based not on nationality and thus is not discriminatory, but is based solely on the threat he thinks they pose to the safety of residents of Indiana. But that's the equivalent of his saying (not that he does say) that he wants to forbid black people to settle in Indiana not because they're black but because he's afraid of them, and since race is therefore not his motive he isn't discriminating. But that of course would be racial discrimination, just as his targeting Syrian refugees is discrimination on the basis of nationality.

The Americans, they do a bit better, in correctly identifying the presidential candidates. Roughly 70 percent ID the Republican candidate as "the orange fuck," and the Democratic candidate as "the dead woman."

I just need the election, to be over.

I am with billmon:

As disillusioned & cynical as I am about USA, even I'm still a little astonished it produced a candidate so thoroughly monstrous & vile. Really want this to be over so The Hairball won't be on TV blowing out my blood pressure 24/7 & I can go back to despising the Clintons in peace.

I also want to get past it, this election, without any of my karass, going into the jail.

Sunday J came up to visit; we went to the market, for supplies. Unfortunately, the doofus arrived, to do the bagging. J had gone in the line before me; as the cashier was ringing me up, I heard that—good god—J, amid the bagging, had somehow entered into a political conversation, with the doofus. And I heard the doofus say, "anything would be better than what we have now." And then the doofus got that true-believer look in his eyes, and he said, "but all that will change, in November."

As J and I were walking through the parking lot, towards the car, he suddenly stopped.

"What?" I asked.

"I need to go back in there," he said.

"Why?"

"I need to break that guy's fingers."

"Why?"

"So he can't vote for Chump." (Chump is J's name for The Hairball; everyone has some sort of name, for the creature.)

"Don't you think that's a little extreme?" I asked.

"No."

"Look," I said, "that store hires the handicapped; that's why he's in there. And breaking his fingers won't work; he's a true believer; he'll just punch out his vote with a pen in his mouth, like Christy Brown. Why don't you come back on election day, and rope him; stash him behind the store till the polls close, then turn him loose."

J liked that idea. He is an interesting fellow: a working cowboy, and also a guy who, back in the day, was a stop on the underground railroad, for lefties who had gone to the bombs, and such. He is a champion roper, and very proud of this skill. When The Hairball came through here, J wanted to go to the event, and rope the freaky geek right off the stage. But, and with the aid of many whiskeys, I talked him out of it.

J has, in his life, roped many creatures, far more dangerous, than The Hairball. Once, atop his horse, he roped a badger . . . which then spent the next six hours furiously trying to climb up the rope, to rip J's lungs out.

My favorite of his roping stories involves when he was a-rest at home, one day, out in the yard, happily roping his young children. See, and like with most everything else, once you really get into roping, you can't stop. Even when you should. And, so, his wife, she detected a certain look in his eye, and she said to him, "J, don't you rope me. I mean it. I'm telling you. Don't do it." J avowed that yes, no, he wouldn't rope her. Then, later, that evening, in the house, he just couldn't help himself; and, as she passed by, he roped her. She said nothing, just smiled thinly, and slipped out of the rope. J, he thought that was the end of it. Until the next morning. When he awoke, walked through the front room, and saw, there in front of the wood stove, all laid out, his nice new special rope, cut into one-inch-long pieces.

"She said not to do it," he always concludes, admiringly. "She was the best woman who ever was."

It is not only the Americans, who do strange and unusual things, with their votes.

In Colombia, the humans, they have long been following the squirrels, in engaging in the Killing, and for many years. Recently the government, and the mainline Outsiders, they negotiated a peace agreement: no more, of each other, or anyone else, the Killing. This peace agreement, it was placed, as plebiscite, before the Colombian people. Who voted it down.

The Killers, they are completely flummoxed.

Both sides vowed they would not go back to fighting.

When a people vote for war, generally the result is not good. In May of 1870, the French voted overwhelmingly for war with Prussia. In January of 1871, the Prussians were in Paris.

In Hungary, the pants-wetting white people, in their last throes, fear-decided to be governed by a huffing and puffing Hairball—Viktor Orban. Who has vowed that he will not allow to remain in the nation icky, scary brown people. And placed before the Hungarians, a referendum, that would defy EU migrant quotas—stuff the icky, scary brown people, right out of the nation.

But it appears that only the semi-humans, whose knuckles drag right on to the ground, went to the polls. The Sane, the Normal, the Evolved humans, they stayed home. And so, although 98.3 percent of the grunters and hooters were said to have voted "yes," this mattered not a whit, because the referendum could not take effect, without a vote of 50 percent of all Hungarians. And only 40 percent, showed.

The Orban Hairball, he is now howling, that he will fashion a constitutional amendment, to keep the Other, at bay.

The Orban Hairball, he is a loser. And a hater. And he is over. And so, are all, of his people.

In Spain, the people are having an interesting experience: they have no government. There has not been a government, for 290 days.

The people, they are not suffering.

Budget money is still flowing. Government ministries are functioning. Social service recipients and civil servants are being paid. Even if no new government has been formed when the 2016 national budget expires this fall, the old budget will simply become the new budget for 2017.

While:

The two traditional parties—the conservative Popular Party and the Socialist Party—could have agreed on a new government, but they refused to talk to each other.

"Negotiating or giving concessions is perceived as weakness," said Antonio Roldán, a lawmaker from the upstart Ciudadanos party.

Manuel de la Rocha Vázquez, an economic adviser in the Socialist Party, said Spain was so polarized that politics had turned almost into a brawl. "There are only insults and blame and arrogance," he said.

The impasse has dragged on so long that "it's like Groundhog Day every day," said Pedro Rodríguez, an assistant professor of international relations at a private university in Madrid.

Many people in Spain, of course, experienced a period when there was no government, during the Spanish Civil War. It all worked quite well. You can read about it here. It: was: anarchism. Which couldn't be allowed to last, of course. And so the fascists of Franco, and the fascists of Stalin, they shut it down.

For a while.

The humans, they are increasingly disfavoring, the way of the squirrels; increasingly, not having, the Killing.

We know this, even from the Science Man squirrel study.

From 50,000 years ago to 10,000 years ago, when humans lived in small groups of hunter-gatherers, the rate of killing was "statistically indistinguishable" from the predicted rate of 2%, based on archaeological evidence, Gómez and his colleagues report today in Nature.

Later, as human groups consolidated into chiefdoms and states, rates of lethal violence shot up—as high as 12% in medieval Eurasia, for example. But in the contemporary era, violence is lower than our evolutionary heritage would predict, hovering around 1.3% when combining statistics from across the world.

Now, maybe, this is shit just made up. But, maybe it's not. And, let us, believe it, to be so. For believing, can make it, so.

And we know it, from the American boy, who wrote to The Kenyan, about the Syrian boy.

Dear President Obama,

Remember the boy who was picked up by the ambulance in Syria? Can you please go get him and bring him to my home? Park in the driveway or on the street and we will be waiting for you guys with flags, flowers, and balloons.

We will give him a family and he will be our brother.

Catherine, my little sister, will be collecting butterflies and fireflies for him.

In my school, I have a friend from Syria, Omar, and I will introduce him to Omar. We can all play together. We can invite him to birthday parties and he will teach us another language. We can teach him English too, just like my friend Aoto from Japan.

Please tell him that his brother will be Alex who is a very kind boy, just like him. Since he won't bring toys and doesn't have toys Catherine will share her big blue stripy white bunny. And I will share my bike and I will teach him how to ride it. I will teach him additions and subtractions in math. And he can smell Catherine's lip gloss penguin which is green. She doesn't let anyone touch it.

Thank you very much. I can't wait for you to come.

Alex

6 years old

Now, maybe, this is just shit made up. Except that it isn't. Because it is the way that it is. The humans, without the Killing, without the Other. One whole indivisible world, without borders, without separateness; and, also, each, individual, human, being. Quantum. And all of the humans, brown. All the colors, bled into one. Already happened. It's just, now, a matter. Of waiting. For the time. To catch up.

[video:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zwQBp8iORF0]
/
[video:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hVWLTH1zqu8]
/
[video:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MBFgKNOXIyc]