The Savage Wars of Peace
The difficulty in finding a cemetary in which to lay to rest the mortal remains of Tamerlan Tsarnaev has been a national embarrassment. "Good" or "evil," Christian or Muslim, man or woman, we are all mortal; we will all die, all shed this mortal coil; the laying of the dead to rest is a basic act of simple decency, a basic tenant of being civilized, & I have been ashamed of both my nation & the Canadas as a number of minor government officials have refused to allow the late, unlamented Mr. Tsarnaev to be buried within their bailiwicks. For pity's sake, what harm can the man's body do now that his rotten soul has departed? Decency, a certain charity toward even our enemies, is supposed to be one of those things that separates us from our enemies, violent death-worshipers who are savages precisely because they disdain decency as a weakness. I am grateful that at long last some measure of decency has been restored, & a resting place for the corpse located, but yet ashamed by the protests against any decent burial & the delay in laying the body to rest.

Who are we, if not a fundamantally decent people? If not decency, for what are we fighting?

Project MERCATOR
I've tried to be a social butterfly of late. Twice in the last several weeks, I've joined a crew organized by Red Patton & contested the Team Trivia pub quiz at Bar Louie; Bar Louie is a horror show of Tapout-branded clothing & the trollops who like apes wearing that logo, & Team Trivia is the poorest pub quiz I've ever encountered, but it also happens to be the only game in town. We've not yet won a game, in part because our recorder, Super Mario, has been left in charge of strategizing our point wagers. (For each set of three questions, the answering team assigns then a point value of two, four, or six, depending on their level of confidence in their answers.) Also, in part, because we're rubbish at answering questions about reality television. Seeking to expand my rôle within Red Patton's circle beyond that of trivia ringer, I invited Red Patton, Super Mario, & the rest of the not-yet-code-named gang to see The Loose Ties, who were playing a rare summertime show without frontman, guitarist, & lead singer Phil. A good time seemed to be had by all; I'd have spent more time with them at their table, but when the ska is played this fatso must dance. I had drinks with Ska Army on a Monday night because he was leaving for Sin City on Tuesday, & I joined Too Sly & the rest of the gang for an end of the year banquet at Luca's in Grand Blanc, on the school's dime. (Don't mind if I do.) Sure, Luca's is a steakhouse, but with a name like Luca's it puts me in the mood for Italian; I had the chicken tortellini. Afterwards, we repaired to a new public house in downtown Flinttown, the Table & Tap, & lived the hipster dream of sitting outside in front of the cool new speakeasy below the newly-renovated, very tony loft apartments wrought out of a repurposed industrial/retail space. The hipster dream, you ask? There were at least two young fellows in the Table & Tap wearing bow ties; so, yes, the hipster dream. To-morrow, I'm motoring to Ann Arbor for The Bradman's bachelor party, organized by Captain Malice. Blasts from the past shall abound. In an thoroughly disorganized mess, that's the latest news from Project MERCATOR.

There is an exhibition at the Flint Institute of Arts that I dare not miss, Reflections on Water in American Painting: The Phelan Collection. I have a gift for procrastination & have missed many an intriguing exhibition at the F.I.A. by putting off attendance until--poof!--the moment has passed & the exhibition has moved on. Reflections on Water in American Painting runs through 16 June. I must make every effort to see it by next weekend at the absolute latest.