This Atlantic article from Phil “Redeployment” Klay about the effects of endless war on U.S. troops seems especially pertinent in light of this evening’s news regarding Syria.
Battle fatigue
Category: Bad news
R.I.P., Robert Grossman
Illustrator and caricaturist Robert Grossman has stepped away from the drawing board for the final time.
He created some memorable covers for National Lampoon and other magazines, and took strong whacks at a wide range of politicos, among them Dick Nixon, Ronald Reagan, Jerry Ford, Jimmy Carter, and Bill and Hillary Clinton.
In a 2008 interview with The Times, asked whether caricatures of presidents and presidential candidates were undignified. Grossman replied: “Undignified? Virtually anything has more dignity than lying and blundering before the whole stupefied world, which seems to be the politician’s eternal role.”
That same year, in an interview with The Tennessean, Mr. Grossman explained the edge illustration had over other forms of journalism.
“Reporters labor under the terrible requirement that what they report must be true,” he said. “Opinion writers need to endure the less stringent demand that what they opine be at least plausible. Nobody ever expects what cartoonists do to be either true or even plausible. That’s why we’re all as happy as larks.”
R.I.P., Andrew Tilin
Former Outside editor Andrew Tilin died Saturday after being struck by a vehicle during a club ride in Austin, Texas.
He was 52, with a partner and two kids.
You can read the magazine’s report here. The Austin Statesman also has a report.
Sounds like bad weather was at least a contributing factor. Let’s be careful out there, folks. It might not help, but it can’t hurt. And my condolences to Andrew’s friends and family.
R.I.P., Mister Boo, 2005-2018
The Boo has left the building. Gone ahead he has, to join Jojo, Fuerte, Bandit, Tina and Ike.
We — OK, I — occasionally joked that Mister Boo was God’s gift to veterinary medicine, and there was always a bit of an edge to it, because medical care for anyone, man, woman or dog, dollars up on the hoof right quick.
But we dug down, and paid up, because that’s what you do for family.
It helped that Mister Boo was a tough little son of a bitch. You wanted to be in his corner. Abandonment, imprisonment, eye operations, bladder surgeries, patellar issues, senility, incontinence, renal dysfunction — they all knocked him down, but nothing could keep him on the canvas.
Or so it seemed.
The bum kidneys and liver were what finally rang the bell on him. They forced him to surrender his disco kibble some time ago, and he considered the prescribed renal diet a bad joke, so I cooked for him. The food was not what the doctor ordered, but it was what he liked, and we figured the auld fella was near the end of his days and entitled to eat as he pleased.
Thus I was Mister Boo’s chef. But he was never my dog.
Oh, I spent a ton of time with him, because I can do my little bit of business from home while Herself suffers from gainful employment. It was usually me who took him to his vet appointments because see previous sentence. And come mealtime I was That Man, the anonymous dude with the food.
But Herself was That Lady Who Gives Me Things. Liberation from prison; baths and walks; toys and treats; pills and potions; hugs and kisses.
In a word, love.
It was Herself who gave Mister Boo a home in the summer of 2011, when she volunteered at the Bibleburg shelter, and it was Herself who gave him peace this bleak February morning. It’s one of those chilly winter days he enjoyed so much, and I’m sad that he couldn’t be here to savor it.
• Click the “Read the rest” link below for a memorial gallery.
Hell on earth
You never like to see your friends on the hot seat, and my old bro’ Chris Coursey is on a very warm squativoo indeed.
Chris is mayor of Santa Rosa, Calif., which abruptly went from a pretty close approximation of heaven on earth to something else entirely on Monday.
You can survey the damage courtesy of The Press Democrat, where Chris spent a couple decades as a reporter and columnist. He and I go way back, to the Seventies — roommates at the University of Northern Colorado in Greeley, we later worked for what then was called the Gazette Telegraph in Bibleburg before I left for Tucson and Chris split for Santa Rosa.
Chris spoke about the fire to his old paper, and to NPR, too; you can listen to that report here.
Another of our old Gazette pals, Merrill Oliver, recently retired from The New York Times and bought a place in (wait for it) Santa Rosa. He’s in transit — last I heard he was in Denver, which is too cold to burn at the moment — but clearly, this is not going to be the joyous change of venue he had been anticipating. I’m told Merrill’s new home was not among those destroyed, but it seems like early days yet, so keep your fingers crossed on his behalf.
We have other friends in the area — Gazette and Press Democrat alum Mike Geniella and his wife T, up Hopland way; Lo Esparza and Scot Nicol in Santa Rosa; Patrick Brady of Red Kite Prayer; and many, many more. Here’s hoping everyone comes out of this OK. Stuff you can always replace, but friends are always in short supply.
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