Obama occupies the Lieberman niche on religion

Drops some context, but still infuriating. Atrios is succincter.

Odd blogging behavior by Brad DeLong

Here I point out that DeLong's using a tactic of our political opponents - and he admits it's unfair (the text in brackets is his editorial response). Yet he leaves the post in question unupdated.

Here he makes a basic error in reading - look at context.

The Schiavo videotape technique

Rilkekind's grandmother, who earlier in her career was a pediatrician, says that the cooing sound he makes at her isn't developmentally appropriate. My guess is that he happened to make that noise randomly a few times in her presence. Something similar
occurred at his first doctor's visit - the pediatrician commented on the fact that he was sucking his thumb. I said, "Yes, I've seen that a few times - I thought he shouldn't be able to do that", and she replied, "No, he shouldn't". I think it's just that he's pretty good at catching his fist in his mouth and sometimes ends up with just his thumb.

I liked his doctor - she was very no-nonsense and info-dense. When we asked about Rilkekind's sharp little fingernails, she said, "File them. It's very hard to clip them and it's very sad when parents slip and snip the ends of their children's fingers off." Well, something like that - it wasn't shocking at the time, but it stuck with me - no doubt designed to do so. I'm certainly going to buy an emory board at the first opportunity.

Stylin'

Rilkekind developed a (frightening but entirely transitory) case of jaundice, requiring a long tan (and a long separation - oops, duty yells:

Happy Father's Day to me

Mrs. R gave me the best of all possible Father's Day presents on Sunday (as usually, click for larger image):

Haphazard agapanthus

On our morning walk, Mrs. R remarked that the agapanthuses (agapanthi?) in our neighborhood look more haphazard than usual. I was reminded of a poem I wrote a few years ago and could never get to work, so I post it in case anyone has useful suggestions. (Here's what an agapanthus looks like, and here's one emerging from its calyx.)



Calyx

Roots deep in midnight rain and chloroplasts
engorged with morning light, from its stained
straitjacket the agapanthus burst

violetly. The place you're headed's halfway up
not this hill, but the next, and everything
important in the world is happening here.

Sit cross-legged on the sketched
square of concrete this moment chose and feel
the dust brought by the wind and whoever

lives in these houses or somewhere
you've not yet seen - where were they? When
the calyx burst, what did you hear?