This boy is Ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased. Deny it!" cried the Spirit, stretching out its hand towards the city. "Slander those who tell it ye! Admit it for your factious purposes, and make it worse. And bide the end!"--Charles Dickens, from "A Christmas Carol"
I drove last night from Austin back to Allen while a radio commentator voiced concerns about alleged actions of "the evolutionists". I listened to stories on the radio of people who kept investing in something too good to be true, because the investment manager was connected into the social philanthropy network. I remembered tales from past days of hearing stories of successful retirees, picked off like quail on country club lawns, while friendly fellows told them about "guaranteed" high-yield investments in death benefits on life insurance policies. I read Tuesday night about expensive gadgets in PC Magazine, which will soon eliminate its print edition for want of money. I passed last week by a small town fire station whose electronic sign said "Two Dogs Available for Adoption". I attended a "mission market" Sunday, where instead of buying gifts, one donated monies to people helping the local homeless or the people who live in deeply impoverished colonias along the border. I eead about how one doctor spends her work time making house calls to people who cannot afford her. In the distance, there were rumours of past sleet and snow--and mild signs of hope that the long frost may thaw.
