Some people are taken aback at how I use the word treason in a political context. So let me explain. Here's the first definition of treason that one finds in the American Heritage Dictionary:

Violation of allegiance toward one's country or sovereign, especially the betrayal of one's country by waging war against it or by consciously and purposely acting to aid its enemies.

Note that the betrayal is of the country or of the sovereign, not of the state. As to the sovereign, in a republic, supreme power lies in a body of citizens who are entitled to vote for officers and representatives responsible to them; in a liberal republic, a fair amount of that supreme power is individualistic (rather than collectivist) in nature.

I'm just speaking goddamn'd English when I refer to violations of individual rights by state officials as treason.

With that in mind, I note some treason to which the Woman of Interest draws my attention:

I always assumed that my conversations with my ex-girlfriend while she was in Iraq were recorded. I wasn't particularly disturbed by that thought; one end of that conversation was in a fr_ggin' war zone. And I didn't have anything to say to her that would be of prurient interest anyway, unless the listener were quite oddly perverse.

But none of these personal conversations should have been circulated for purposes of entertainment, even in cases where the discourse weren't potentially embarassing.

And, when the next President fails to bring these analysts up on charges of treason, that failure will itself be treason.

I went to various PetCo and PetSmart locations to-day, to get more things for taking care of a mouse. I have or am awaiting receipt of almost everything that I want except for the mouse itself.

While I was at a PetSmart, a girl came over to the area where rodents and birds were kept. Shortly thereäfter, a couple of employees appeared, and told her that they would not sell a rat to her, because they feared that she was going to give the rat to a snake. Apparently she was known to own a snake, and had bought a rat not many days ago. The girl responded with a dubious tale of having given away the snake. She was politely told that no rat would be sold to her. As she was leaving, I thanked the employees.

There was also an older man working there who kept pulling out a picture of his dog to show to people. This behavior was both amusing and charming.

The Crittertrail Mini Two that I ordered arrived to-day, as did the two water bottles that I ordered for use with the larger of the two carriers. I am pleased with the way that the Mini Two packs-up for storage or shipment. In any case, I could now in good conscience buy a small rodent, as I have a decent home in which to put it.

(The Mini Two has a handle such that it too could be used as a carrier, but I think that it would be best if the rodent felt that its home were stable.)

Unfortunately, I haven't found a local mouse breeder. I can buy a mouse from one of many pet stores, but I'd prefer to buy one from a breeder, as there are much the same issues with the breeding of exotic pets as with dogs and with cats — inhumane breeders and all that. Which is not to say that I would refuse to buy a mouse from, say, PetSmart, but that at least ceteris paribus I would rather buy from a breeder who allowed inspection of the environment in which the animals were bred and housed.

Well, it's still standing, but… Notice that the south-eastern support has now been so displaced that its base is now cocked.

(I earlier posted an image from 14 August and some from 15 September.)

I had been letting my sideburns grow since mid-May. I reached Wolverine stage quite a while back, then started resembling someone in a late Nineteenth Century engraving or photograph. After that, I began to look like a bit-player in a western movie. Yester-day, I took my beard trimmer and trimmed them down. Here is how I look to-day: BTW, see the difference between the upper lid of my left and right eye? That difference develops when I need sleep; otherwise, the left eyelid looks more like the right, with flesh above the lid nearly covering it. The difference first appeared many years ago, during a very extended bout with flu and pneumonia. A doctor who looked at it found it rather mysterious.

I have ordered both a Crittertrail Mini Two and a Habitrail Mini. That might sound absurd, but it should be possible to connect the two, creating a relatively large habitat. And I could take just one or the other with me when I visit my parents. I also got a loft for the Habitrail, as my mice Bob and Ray used to like to sleep in the loft of the (hamster-sized) Habitrail in which I kept them. And I got a little side-chamber, as I'm going to see if I can coax the mouse into using that as a litter box. (If not, well, then he'll just have a side chamber.)

An interesting story has appeared on my radar:

In 1965, James Bonard Fowler was a corporal in the Alabama State Police. With a group of State Police officers, he pursued peaceful protestors into a café; Fowler began beating an old man. The victim's daughter tried to protect her father, so Fowler beat her. Her 26-year-old son, Jimmie Lee Jackson, tried to stop this, so Fowler gut shot him twice. Jackson died a couple of days later. Marches held in response to this murder were important events of the civil rights movement in the '60s.

I don't know how reliable the Anniston Star now is; it used to be a commercial newspaper, and it has the honor of having been an Alabama newspaper that argued against racial segregation during the civil rights era. But it is now apparently run by journalism students. The story at least seems legitimate.

Some years ago, Senator McCain wrote a letter in support of CAPCAT — a thoroughly bogus organization used by Griffith Simmons Sean Parlaman for self-promotion and as cover for his pædophilia — one of various acts that jointly persuade me that McCain is a d_mn'd fool.

In the earlier case, I don't think that we have further evidence that McCain is a fool (do we need more?), but it's interesting to find him again having written on behalf of a villain (in whom I happen to have a prior interest), and again with a Thailand connection (about which I had no idea prior to this story).

Years ago, I was dealing with a verbal thug in an Internet politics forum, and I called him a thug. At which point one of his allies jumped-in and claimed that my calling him this was an act of anti-Semitism, insofar as thug was used by Palestinian militants as as a codeword for Israelis, and I knew the fellow to be an Israeli.

One immediate problem was that I didn't know or believe that the fellow was an Israeli (I'd formed no opinion about his nationality); and, indeed, it developed that I couldn't have known such a thing, because the fellow simply wasn't an Israeli.

I'd also never heard or read of the word thug being used by Palestinian militants for any purpose (albeït that it wouldn't surprise me if they'd exhausted the lexicon of insults when it came to Israel). I'd called the fellow a thug for the simple reason that he was a goddamn'd thug.

The deeper problem was simply the accusation that someone was using codewords, where there isn't any need to produce a codebook, or demonstrate that a pattern has been meaningfully fit. It's a perfectly craven line of attack.

I mention this now in response to this story:

Although the rodent that I most want is a fat-tailed gerbil (Pachyuromys duprasi), they are illegal in California. In that context, I have been thinking increasingly of getting a mouse (Mus musculus) for myself.

I have some experience with keeping mice as pets; I had four when I was a teenager — first Aristotle, then Jacques (who was disliked by Aristotle and returned that dislike with hate), then Bob and Ray (brothers who loved each other). The Woman of Interest also had mice when she was a child, and she's offered some helpful advice, from her own experience.

In fact, I've started assembling things so that I will be prepared again to keep a mouse. I got a couple of carriers — one suitable for very short trips, the other large enough to serve as a home for a few days (or longer if the mouse doesn't spend all of its time in it) — a couple of water bottles for the larger carrier, a Silent Spinner wheel, and a clear ball in which the mouse can be placed and allowed to exercise out of the cage.

I still need to settle on whatever I will use as the regular home for the mouse. I like mouse-scaled Habitrails, but I notice that Super Pet (who produced the carriers and ball) makes available many sorts of replacement parts for their habitats, which can be connected to Habitrails.

I also want to have a first-aid kit at hand, though I obviously hope never to need it. And I think that I may get some rodent harnesses, such as those used for laboratory mice, to facilitate airplane travel.

One thing that I regret about my Jaxon safari hat is that it's not crushable — I cannot simply stuff it into a suitcase. So I was cruising the website of the Village Hat Shop, whereupon I found crushable wool Aussie hats on sale for just $15 apiece.

At that price, I decided that I should get three — one for myself, one for the Woman of Interest, and one for my father. I would also have got one for my mother, except that I don't know the size of her head.

So I stopped at the local store yester-day morning. Unfortunately, they had none in the appropriate size in-stock, but they took my name and number, and said that they would call if they some were found in the warehouse or at one of the other stores.

In the event, they called that after-noon to report that they now had three at the local store, being held in my name for a few days. I stopped again this morning, when they opened, and bought the hats.

Anyway, I thought that they gave very good service on some very inexpensive hats.