After Thucydides Read to you my silent poem, how does it go? Goes without saying, va sans dire. And then someone spoke and there was the largest crowd in history, and a luminous array of tariffs made us rich again which after all was our pre-existential condition before the construction of our glorious, seguro- will-cover-it wall, and we learned that however true it may...be.. that truth is something intermittent, which is how some histories are written. ** It’s Your Past Catching Up with You and then your past catches up with you, or tries to, and then your past tries to oscillate your future, or makes a very good effort to be closer than it appears and then you’re past all caring, all over-canvassed tenses meet each other mid-stream, toll your moment, tell your future, and then your past. ** Dirthivination and The Descent of Man Weak as we are, weak though we may be, the way we fumble with our awkward polities, perhaps we’ll stumble through this, (does there not exist a theory that perhaps we’re all one species beyond the struts and fretting and the cavalier apostasies) and do so without rancor, certainly?