Interesting, in identifying another dog, the below encounters would seem to suggest that either dogs do not entirely rely on their sense of smell, or they care more about promising prey than meticulous zoological categorization. No wait, they readily approach the bone, because there is no doggish smell to suggest a battlesome conspecific, but watch for other signs of hindrance and danger.
Wilfred Owen wrote Futility in May 1918, just a few months before death on the battlefield on 4 November during the crossing of the Sambre–Oise Canal. Futility documents an event where a group of soldiers discover one of their comrades. He has died and their attempts to revive him by moving him in to the sun fail.
Interesting in its own right, the below lesson in breaking open parmesan cheese strikes me as providing a graphic analogy of how spontaneous order and man-made order interlock fruitfully. To adapt to and use the possibilities of a self-generating order to your advantage you must study and understand its nature, and learn to find an interface between its features and your needs. Respect for and insight into emergent order will tend to enhance the range of wholesome applications for conscious intervention. It would be rather a surprise if people, on being given more liberty, were not to extend their efforts at controlling their environment and making it accord ever more closely with their needs. For that reason alone, politics and freedom are inseparable twins of great potential and ambivalent effects.
See also my post on Greed versus Self-Interest, in which I argue that what defines man is the urge to adapt to his environment by developing and satisfying new needs. This fundamental anthropological condition explains the incidence of the entrepreneur and free markets, no less than the presence of political ambition and creativity. Proper stewardship of liberty requires participation in the vast areas in which politics rather than market based activities determine the nature and extent of freedom in a society.
Anyhow, I watched a supermoon from my garden, last night.
A supermoon is the coincidence of a full moon or a new moon with the closest approach the Moon makes to the Earth on its elliptical orbit, resulting in the largest apparent size of the lunar disk as seen from Earth.
However, the moon never really changes size, and it's simply your brain playing a trick?
Itself a great and wonderfully versatile source of reading, the Hit&Run blog has the below recommendation for your summer beach read:
English majors may fondly recall novelist Nathaniel Hawthorne for enthralling works like The Scarlet Letter and The House of the Seven Gables. But few seem to have read Hawthorne's brilliant 1852 satire The Blithedale Romance, which draws on his frustrating experiences with the short-lived utopian community called Brook Farm. [...]
The Blithedale Romance is by turns laugh-out-loud funny and darkly tragic, and its ending packs a wallop. In a world where so-called intentional businesses, foundations, and communities built around shared moral purposes are all the rage, the novel should be required reading. It reminds us that even the best intentions are rarely strong enough to overrule either the longings of the human heart or the basic laws of economics.
Curiosity is the mother of philosophy and science, and looking out into the world with an open mind is the commendable talent of the entrepreneur. In fact, the scientist and the entrepreneur are really the same type, they go for the new and the better.
For no particular reason, my glass is half empty, today. So, I see the clip as symbolising the victory of the square conformist over the hero type, which latter to me is the seeker of truth and improvement.
But then, what do we know of the further life paths of the two frogs; maybe the frog in the bottle is only at the outset of a great, adventurous and fulfilling life.
I am sure, if we had a commenting readership, we would witness an amazing variety of perceptions as to what is going on in that clip.