Not so fast. So says Robert Reich:

Unfortunately, the middle class are the ones most likely to be overly concerned about federal deficits.

I saw we send everyone to college, have them take a few Econ courses, and then start fixing our bridges.

Peering through the mist at Loch Lomond

Sometimes in the morning darkness I lie in bed, listening to BBC's weather forecast, glad I'm not in Scotland, where gales and storms hammer away at the shores. In the winter, there are snow storms in the Highlands, cold rain in the Lowlands. Safe and dry in southern England, for the moment at least, I live vicariously until the news comes back on and I'm transported from Scotland to other treacherous parts of the world.

Last weekend I got a taste of those Scottish storms. Saturday morning, the rain pelted our cottage, tapping at the windows, splashing in the muddy farm tracks where I walked the dog in my wellies. My raincoat didn't protect my face from the raging raindrops. The weather report we watched on BBC promised relief: the same rain we'd woken up to in the Highlands was heading south. They'd get the rain at home, while we dried out.

Around noon we headed over to Stirling. On the way, a giant rainbow connected the hills of the Highlands as the sun came out and battled the rain to a draw.

We toured Stirling Castle, occasionally ducking inside the dank stones for a respite from the rain. But by the time we finished—there's a lot to see there, so it was a good two hour tour—the rain had decamped for parts south.

Stirling Castle, from below

Stirling Castle was the home of Scottish kings and queens for centuries. I've been to a lot of castles since moving here, and it's one of the best. A renovation project has preserved the Great Hall and is currently at work on the Palace, built by James IV (Mary Queen of Scots' grandfather). Approaching the castle from the west, you see it standing on top of a rocky crag, opposite the Wallace Monument. It's an imposing sight, there at the edge of the Highlands.

We stayed not far from the shores of Loch Lomond, one of the prettiest lakes in Scotland, and the largest freshwater lake in Britain. Loch Lomond, along with Loch Katrine and the Argyll Forest, are part of the Trossachs National Park. We didn't have time to explore as much as we'd have liked during our short break. (Most rental cottages in Britain, or "self-catering cottages", rent from Saturday to Saturday, but are often available for short breaks during the off season. It's a very economical form of lodging.)

Ben Lomond rises to the east of Loch Lomond. On Sunday we set out from the Rowardennan carpark up the trail. It wasn't the loveliest walk—forest operations are currently clearcutting trees near the path, resulting in a wide swath of stumps—but from the upper reaches of Ben Lomond, a wonderful view of the Loch appears.

Exploring the trail up Ben Lomond

Loch Lomond is cluttered with islands at its southern end, some of which are inhabited and have daily mail service. I found it cozier than gigantic Loch Ness, and more intriguing than the pretty lakes of the Lake District. (My first view of Loch Lomond, from the western side, was during our trip to Loch Ness, and I've always wanted to return.)

There was another sight I wanted to see in the area. Again, during our visit to Loch Ness I'd read about the Falkirk Wheel, a circular boat lift that connects two formerly unconnectable canals, the Forth and Clyde Canal and the Union Canal. The problem was the Forth and Clyde lay 35 meters below the Union Canal. Instead of the series of locks that had been dismantled, British Waterways created an engineering marvel for the Millennium, the Falkirk Wheel.

The Falkirk Wheel, mid-turn

There's a nice visitor centre there, and walking paths around the wheel. It's well worth a visit—and is dog friendly. We watched as two boats loaded into the caissons, and then the wheel began to turn—slowly reversing positions until one boat was on the upper canal, and the other was below.

If we'd had more time, we'd have loved to take a trip round the wheel in one of the tourist boats. But we were on our way home, and though the weather in Scotland remained bright and crisp, rain still lingered in southern England. When we arrived home, it pelted our faces as we unloaded our car.

I thought I recognized some of the raindrops.

For more photos, go here.

Watch this video of this soldier coming home after 14 months in Iraq. See how his dogs go nuts?

My dog does that every time I come home. Even if I've only been gone 15 minutes.

Watch it; it's wonderful. The expression in the brown dog's eyes as she gazes up at him is why we do the things we do for our dogs.

(via)

Watch this. But preferably not when you've had a glass or two of wine. Because you'll cry a little bit. At least that's what I'm blaming it on.

And tell everyone you know to watch it.

These two prize bulls live on the farm where we stayed. They enjoyed some friendly headbutts while I photographed them. Ben Lomond is in the distance.

They sort of remind me of buffalo with noserings.

This is a twofer—you see the sheep in the pasture in the background?

My friend Julie sent me a link to this map, "What if the world could vote?" At first I didn't realize it was colored blue because that's Obama's color. There are tiny red McCain spots in Georgia and, believe it or not, Andorra.

I guess I'll have to go to Andorra and canvass for Obama. Can't afford to lose those swing countries.

Go check it out; it's fascinating.

This:

A Monroe, Louisiana man is facing a felony terrorizing charge after a racially charged, profane exchange with his Registrar of Voters and police officers who would later arrest him.

Monroe is where I grew up. (No, I checked: It's not my dad.) My cousin was Registrar of Voters there for ages until he retired.

Mr. Williams, who became angry when he didn't receive his voter registration card, is in his 70s. What is it with that age group that they can't control their anger? (via)

Someone is not so happy to be leaving Scotland.

Here's why:

The view from Blairvockie Farm ("clearing of the roebuck") where we stayed. That's Loch Lomond in the distance, with Ben Lomond rising above.

And yeah, we bagged it.

Sorry I haven't updated since I returned last night from Scotland. I had class today, where I realized this isn't one of those classes where you sit back, soak up as much information as you want, and then spit it out in a 2000-word paper consisting mainly of bullshit. (I excel at bullshit papers. Just ask my roommate in college, for whom I wrote such a masterpiece of excrement once.)

No, this is one of those classes where audience participation is encouraged. (Oddly, I noticed that when a class member speaks, no one looks at the speaker. I think it's to avoid embarrassing him or her.) And there's this smarty pants student next to me. She's about 75 and stooped over with osteoporosis, and when she speaks, she spits a little bit—maybe her false teeth don't fit well. But she's damn smart and the teacher is obviously impressed. So am I. I want to be her. When I'm old.

Anyway, I need to go read a few chapters on the Tudors so I won't sound like an idiot in class. Can't let down the home team.

I can't watch that debate tonight. I've had a bad feeling for a week now, hoping that the damn thing would be canceled. It's a no-win situation for Biden and the Obama campaign. Unless Palin absolutely sinks—and the terms of the debate are rigged so that she's only got 90 seconds to swim around before time is called—I think she'll be declared the winner, just by showing up. Expectations are that low.

Did you know Alaska shares a border with Russia?

But whatever. The truly scary candidate is John McCain. Don't miss the Rolling Stone piece over on the left. We can't let him do to our country what he did to four—or was it five?—Navy planes. (Gives new meaning to the term du jour "bailout.")

I think I'd like to phone a friend!

Tomorrow night I shall be firmly ensconsed in a cottage on the Bonny Bonny Banks of Loch Lomond. No internet. No mobile reception. No Starbucks. No italics!

Just me and my true love.

O you’ll tak’ the high road and I’ll tak’ the low road
And I’ll be in Scotland afore ye
For me and my true love will ne-er meet again
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o’ Loch Lomond.

I think I'm having a manic day. I woke up at 4 a.m. and listened to BBC World Service, where I learned that Andorra has a really long life expectancy and excellent health care. I would move there, but suddenly America is seeming much nicer too. Maybe it's the polls, which have Obama up in Florida, Ohio, and Pennsylvania by extraordinary margins. I literally danced around the house today, teaching the dog that "barack obama!" meant "treat!!!".

Maybe it's relief. This morning I rang my friend, and asked perfunctorily how she was. "I had a terrible day yesterday. My brother died," she said, and I went into condolence mode. "Oh, I'm SO sorry! How awful! What can I—"

"Yeah, we have NO hot water! And I'm waiting for the guy to show up and fix it."

"Wait. Did you say your BOILER died?" Suddenly everything was cool. Not for her—being without hot water is, well, sorta cool, but not fun. Anyway.

Maybe she could move to Andorra.

Last week I was in a pissy mood. Wanted to kick the whole world. But today all is well. I'm going to clean my house like mad tomorrow, then we're heading up to Scotland.

Which I understand is very much like Andorra.

In my first class today on the Reign of Henry VIII, I had a crazy thought: What if George Bush is really the reincarnation of Henry VIII?

It would explain the royal proclamation—err, signing statements. The public adoration, which later in his reign turned to public disgust. The tendency to take the advice of the last adviser who talked to him. The piousness. The erratic behaviour. (Oh wait, that's John McCain.) The increased use of the charge of treason. The enhanced power of the crown—err, executive branch.

Although—somewhere along the way he lost the ability to speak Latin. Or English, for that matter.

John McCain:

John McCain:

Whew. All that walking does a body good. This weekend I schlepped around Prague (note that this is the first time I've used that word on my blog. It must be the Jewish holidays.) until I couldn't schlep any more, and then we went to a village outside of Prague and schlepped some more the next day, so I'm pretty much beat.

One comment, though. I did get up at 3 a.m. Saturday morning to watch the debate. (Luckily, the friend I was visiting is a political junkie too, so we set the alarm and watched it on CNN.) But I sorta had my eyes closed while McCain was speaking (it was 3 a.m.!), so I didn't pick up on the condescending way he refused to look at Obama. I actually thought McCain did well, but then I was expecting a fiasco a la the Spanish radio interview. That didn't happen, so I assumed he would be proclaimed the winner.

Lo and behold, the rest of America (the only pundits who count) disagreed. Good for them. Maybe I won't have to affect a Canadian accent on November 5 after all.

I am notoriously bad at naming the winners of debates, however. I thought Obama did well during the primaries, I thought both Kerry and Gore were decisive winners over Bush, and I am terrified that Palin will win the VP debate on the virtue of just showing up.

None of those opinions seem to be in the majority. So, what do I know?

I'll post photos of Prague later. And rave about my shoes. Perfect schlepping shoes. (Say that fast!)

I am suspending blogging during this time of great national crisis. I shall immediately be heading to Prague, where I intend to research the history of Czechoslovakia, which I understand is now referred to by most presidential candidates as "the Czech Republic."

Country before blogging.

We saw this sign today on our walk. My dog has never worried another animal in her life, unless eating their yummy droppings is worrisome to them, but we played it safe and put her on a leash anyway.

Even though there wasn't a single animal in the field. Only some cow droppings, which weren't fresh enough for a good roll, much less a meal.

Note to the farmer who put this up: You look pretty silly over-reacting like that. I know your type. You listen to the Archers and have smelly hair. And you probably wouldn't be able to choose a good Riesling if you had to.

So there. Just shoot me.

Barack Obama holds Baby, the three-legged poodle rescued from an abusive puppy mill operation

I don't think there's really any doubt who to vote for in November, but if you're still on the fence, here's the endorsement by the Humane Society, which usually doesn't endorse presidential candidates. This year, animal welfare truly does seem to be on the line:

Today I went to the British Museum exhibit on the Emperor Hadrian: Life, Love, Legacy, Empire and Conflict. Once again, I was faced with evidence that nothing is new in this world, not even multi-million dollar bailouts.

You see, when Hadrian took office, he forgave 900 million sesterii in private debts. The exhibit even included a relief showing the wax tablets upon which the debts were written being taken to the fire for melting.

Gives new meaning to "Wall Street" doesn't it?

I also learned that homosexuality was quite common in ancient Rome, and Emperor Hadrian had a young lover, Antinous, whom he was very attached to. His death during a boat trip on the Nile really shattered Hadrian. Afterward he encouraged the cult of Antinous which rivaled Christianity at one point.

I can just imagine the campaign bumper stickers they must have had back then. "Hadrian: Gods, Gays, and Greed."

Hadrian also had a little problem with the Jews, who he tried to exterminate. They ended up hiding in a cave for three years, where several of their possessions were remarkably well preserved. Of course Hadrian was also famous for his wall, built to keep out Mexicans Scottish raiders.

I understand he was also voted the Emperor People Most Want to Have an Ale With.

Peek below for a picture of Antinous, dressed up like an Egyptian with an, umm, bulging loincloth.

Hadrian had this Osiris statue of his lover Atinous commissioned after Antinous died in Egypt. But he wanted the sculptor to include evidence of his lover's manhood, so a little bulge pokes out of the cloth. Seriously.

I'm off today, for some culture in the big city, but I want to point you toward Hilzoy at Washington Monthly (she's the best blogger there, imo).

She lays out her thinking on the bailout, including this sobering gem:

Yes. I'd like a letter of apology from every Republican who ever uttered the falsehood "tax and spend liberal!". On my desk when I get home.

I admit, I've joined in when other bloggers make fun of people who think floating down a river in a raft until they come upon a moose, and then shooting it in the lungs and tracking it down to where it finally falls is great sport.

I think moose hunting is about as sportsmanlike as squishing caterpillars, but what do I know? I've only come upon a moose once in the wild. Perhaps they're actually quite agile and fierce.

This video, showing the viciousness of a mother moose and her twins when under attack by a water sprinkler, may change your mind about moose hunting. I dunno; watch it and see.

How do you read the web? Like an F? Do you seek the nut? Ignore content blobs?

I've suspected this for a while, based on my own viewing habits, but now Mark Bauerlein, professor of English at Emory University, has confirmed that, if you're still reading this, you're probably not the typical web skimmer.

Try reading this article, but I warn you: There's way too much information in there for the easily distracted. But it's worth your time anyway, especially if you're an educator. Because it turns out digitizing the classroom isn't particularly rewarding:

Read.

The.

Whole.

Thing.

(via)

Robert Reich, former Labor Secretary under President Clinton and member of the progressive economic intelligencia, says pretty much what I've been thinking about this bailout, only with more authority:

Get that? Next up on the barbie, the U.S. taxpayer. Possibly.

You know how a couple of years ago the Bush administration wanted to privatize Social Security? Put billions into Wall Street instead of the current scheme? Democrats shot that down.

Now today, the Bush administration has effectively socialized Wall Street. Like Social Security, it's now government run.

I am confused. But I suspect Wall Street will work a lot better now. Hey, maybe the government can socialize FEMA!

Apparently, the Three Billy Goats Gruff live at the base of the Zugspitze Mountain in Bavaria. Yes, that's a bell he's wearing around his neck. I think they do that for the tourists.

"Wait for our brother," they told me, "he's much fatter than we are." I replied I wasn't interested in dinner, only trolling for a good shot with my camera.

If you want to see their view, click below.

This isn't the Zugspitze, it's another mountain in the Alps. I don't know what those huts were for; someone said they're for storing firewood.

Could it be that when a Santa Fe radio station counters false political campaign ads run by McCain with their own, more truthy, editorial the polls start to head south for McCain?

I dunno. But Obama's lead sure has grown in my home state of New Mexico. I suspect my people are not very fond of lies and the lying liars who tell them.

If you hear a lie on your own radio or television station, contact the station and ask them to point out the truth in an editorial. Can't hurt.

Bet you never saw watercress growing!

These are the Sarratt Bottom watercress beds, the last active watercress beds on the Chess River. The warm water from the river (usually 10C or more) is diverted to the beds.

The watercress is available at local farmers' markets.

It's nice to see where my food comes from.

The dog decided to take a mud bath on our walk today near Chenies. She also found several pungent scents in the woods which required a good roll in order to mask her normal dog scent, therefore enabling her to creep up on the squirrels without notice.

The thinking here is that they'll just think she's a walking cesspool.

I need to give her a bath, so blogging and Twittering will be light. Plus we're both exhausted. A lie-in on the couch sounds a lot more fun than a muddy bath.

I brought this plant back with me from Germany. It's been so wet I haven't been able to plant it until yesterday.

Anyone want to guess what it is?

Here's a hint:

• Although I bought it in Germany, it's associated with Austria, where it's a protected flower.

• It's small and white, and fuzzy too.

• The legend is that when a man is courting his sweetheart, he'd go high in the Alps to find this flower and bring it back to her, thus demonstrating his steadfast love.

Give up?

Several times a day I add links to the blogroll over on the left, called "Plan to vote? Read these links first."

Some of them are nonsense—like the Obama paper dolls—but a lot of them are good articles or videos you can use to rebut questions that come up about Obama's tax plan, or McCain's health care plan (which sounds like a joke but it's not, unfortunately). Soon I want to compile the best links for emailing your Republican brother-in-law who constantly sends you stuff about how Obama is going to raise your taxes and other nonsense like that.

But for now I've increased the number of links that display to 50. Keep checking back. It's on the left.

When the election is over I'll go back to posting cute dog videos.

A couple of weeks ago I started getting email from Norm Coleman (R-Minnesota), who's running for re-election to the Senate. Then I started getting updates from the Republican National Committee, telling me about all the cool parties at the convention. Today I just got an email from Ralph Nader (G-Perdition).

And it's not just American politicians. I also received an email from Mr. Johnson Tsvangirai, son of Morgan Tsvangirai, winner of the Zimbabwe elections. He wants me to handle a very confidential financial transaction for him, so I won't say more, though it promises to be very lucrative. Note that, if I disappear suddenly, I am probably on my way to The Netherlands to handle the details personally.

Anyway, I find it interesting that all these politicians are sending me email, out of the blue like that. I guess Norm thought I'd want to hear from them, so he passed around my email.

I may have to travel unexpectedly to Minnesota. Norm keeps asking me for money, but before I invest in his scheme I'll need to know more—unlike Mr. Tsvangirai, he doesn't give me a lot of details, only some smack about a guy named Al.

By the way, if anyone's looking for Cialis, I know where you can get it cheap.