Over 145,000 US children separated from parents since Republican President Donald Trump’s ICE surge, study estimates

https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2026/may/18/children-parents-detained-trump-mass-deportation-push

#ICE #family #destruction #Trump #MAGA

A Day In The Life Of An Old Retired Rat Hunter

As some of you know, I had, and now, still have a Rodent, Rat, Mouse, or something more vile living within the depths of my wife, Momo’s, favorite thing: her hot tub.

We’ve removed most of the foam from inside, found the tubes the little critter chewed to obtain water, and have a friend who is a plumber who plans to replace the damaged parts in a week or so.

Now the Hantavirus, or the Black Plague, is going around, Good Lord Almighty, another pandemic? Mouse poop is going to wipe out the country?

Those folks on that tour ship must have ingested some in their Ceaser salad while gorging at the buffet. There is a substantial amount of Rat poop inside the hot tub, so there must be more than one, possibly a family with relatives.

I did the inhumane, unthinkable, and poisoned the little Rat with some guaranteed tasty and effective bait. Yesterday, he was lying down, breathing hard, and in a spot I could reach with my wife’s Martha Stewart Cooking Tongs. I figured he was about to go to Ratland, so I would wait out the expiration, but this morning, he or she has vanished. It’s unlikely a Rat Rapture happened, so he is either deeper in the tub or has crawled away to croak in a more natural and serene setting in the woods that surround my home.

My cousin and I used to sit in my grandparents’ barn and shoot the Rats with our Daisy BB Guns, killing a few now and then, but developing a keen eye for shooting fast-moving targets. Now I’m back to square one: find the Rat, dig more foam, put on a Hazmat suit, and finish vacuuming up the foam pieces and the Rat poop. I’m seriously considering having someone haul the tub away, Rat and all, or purchasing a 410 Shotgun and gettin er’ done.

I

AI Could Never Feel Its Ancestor’s Tears

May 14, 2026

Things That AI Cannot Do – #11 in a series

It’s another rainy and cold day in May.  It’s been that kind of Spring.  I’m thankful that the lilacs are taking their time to open into full bloom.  They are the surest sign that spring is in full swing, and I want to savor every precious moment. The sight of a lilac bush in bloom can cheer the saddest heart and that intoxicating smell is like heaven.  The longer that the lilac hangs on the bush, the happier we are.

Moody weather can sometimes be an incubator for curious thoughts. This morning has me thinking about my ancestors.  So many of them left old France for the new one in Canada.  My grandfather’s family settled on a small island off the coast of Quebec where they farmed the land. It is an idyllic spot of fertile land sitting there in the middle of the Saint Lawrence River and perfect for growing so many things.  The land parcel did not include the possibility of land ownership, and I am sure life for the settlers brought its share of hardships with the remote location and the long harsh winters.

Always looming in the background for so many was that dream of America, that place where life could only be better.  My grandfather came to America to work in any job that would have him.  He started as a logger in Maine and then found work at the Westport Factory.  There he met my grandmother who also heralded from Quebec and together they saved enough to buy some land and start a dairy farm in Dartmouth.  It was the life of a farmer come full circle but this time with the privilege of owning their own piece of land.

What a legacy they left for their many children and grandchildren with their heritage of hard work and sacrifice.  Still, I wonder if they ever missed their dear old Canada.  I wonder if they ever looked back on their decision with a sense of regret.  I wonder, from their viewpoint in the great beyond, what they think of their America now.  This morning, I felt a sense of sadness that is unexplainable.  Life goes on as we make our way through the day of life’s responsibilities, but something feels different.  The hopes and dreams and beliefs of our ancestors seem further and further from the reality of our today. 

The billionaires are having their day in China rubbing elbows with a hoard of like-minded others.  All are hoping to walk away with the best deal for their corporations and for themselves.  This world has never seen such a set of rich and greedy humans all existing at one time and in one place.  This place is our earth and it belongs to all of us, but our destinies are being decided by those who have the power and those who choose to cozy up next to it. 

The earth has only a finite source of riches, and its wealth is meant to span the eons. Somehow, without our choosing, the pie is being divided for us, and we can see that we’ve been allotted the smallest sliver.  Our country was founded by those that gave their heart and soul for the following generations to have a better life.  Will that continue to be possible for our children and grandchildren?  Today, the raindrops feel like tears falling, and I can sense my ancestor’s sadness in my bones.  I can feel their calling to not give up on the America that they helped to build. 

Their message is one that we know to be true:  Be strong America.  We’ve got a hell of a lot of work ahead of us, but we’ve done hard things before.