7:56 pm CST
In response to my puzzlement over the removal of the picture of the mushroom cloud over Utah, a reader writes:

Mormons testing their micro nukes?   ;)

Those Satanic child molesters are touchy about us wogs finding out about their plans.

Until someone comes up with a better explanation, I suppose this one will have to do.

7:52 pm CST
Our loving Police State: Military Creeping Into Domestic Law Enforcement

Meanwhile, in the EU: Music swappers face home invasion

The Nature of the Threat: "In an Oct. 2001 article entitled "Liberties Lost: Unintended Consequences of the Anti-Terror Law," former White House counsel John Dean lamented that the "right to dissent" was in jeopardy. Charging that the PATRIOT Act twisted the definition of domestic terrorism, he wrote "home-grown political activists [and protesters] would be considered terrorists under this new law …"

Lou Dobbs: "This is probably the most important presidential election since 1980. We'll be voting for either a Texas compassionate conservative or a Massachusetts liberal. Most Democrats will vote for a Skull & Bones Yale-graduated millionaire. And Republicans, following party lines, will also vote for a Skull & Bones Yale-graduated millionaire. How's that for differentiation? …"

4:25 pm CST
LOS BRAZOS DE DIOS
Part Five

By now, it was mid-afternoon and getting hot. We sweated profusely as we rowed, and drank our water to stay hydrated. But, having lost some bottles of water earlier in the accident, we were mindful of the need to ratio, thus drank less than we might have otherwise.

We started rowing through the shadows of some great oaks that loomed on the banks; the sunlight strobed through the trees, causing cartoon petroglyphs and Navajo sun-shapes to dance on my eyeballs.

Then, deep in the thicket, I saw a Comanche in war paint watching us, his head slowly turning as we passed. He faded away as we rode out of the time warp.

But it was no time warp, I realized. The mushrooms had taken hold.

The shadows were lengthening. It was late afternoon. We rounded a bend. Ahead was a tree-covered hill.  The trees seemed two-dimensional, like painted cardboard scenery for a play, forming multiple saw-tooth patterned rows, each casting its shadow upward on the row behind it, all the way to the top of the hill reddening in the setting sunlight.

The canoe wobbled, causing my pulse to jump. I braced myself to be spilt into the river. But the canoe remained upright, and we kept moving forward.

But I did not relax. Earlier, after the accident, I had managed to relax. But now I was aware that it was not necessary to hit a log to tip over; it could happen at any time.  And if it happened out here in the open river, without a whirlpool to keep our things in a holding pattern until we could salvage them, everything would be scattered in seconds and swept downstream. It would be all we could do not to lose the canoe. And we  might lose the oars. Without them, of course, the canoe would be useless. I could picture myself swimming to catch an oar as it raced away on the current-swimming, and tiring, then developing a cramp and sinking in panic-stricken horror into the gloomy, fishy depths of the river, and drowning. The vividness of this waking nightmare was, of course, greatly enhanced by the mushrooms, and took on such a reality that I began to perceive such a disaster as inevitable. A terrible sense of doom took hold of me. There was going to be another accident-I was sure of it-and it was going to be much worse than the earlier accident. That one had been mere foreshadowing; the one that lurked just down the river would be horrible. There was no doubt in my mind, we were rowing straight into the gaping skull's mouth of Death.

Jim and I had not spoken for a while. Now, Jim said, "I'm tired of this."

"Yeah, me too," I said. "Let's find a place to camp before it gets dark."

"I've got a better idea. Let's keep on going. We can turn in this canoe and go home tonight. I don’t want to be out here tomorrow."

I felt the same. My leg was hurting—was worrying me, a little—and the sense of dread was overpowering. I wanted to get it behind me now, not tomorrow.

"Okay," I said. "But how far is the bridge? Do you think we can reach it before dark."

"Oh, sure," said Jim confidently. "We've been rowing so long it can’t be far at all."

"Thank God," I said.

So on we rowed.

But it took longer than Jim had said it would to reach the bridge. Night fell.

Luckily, a half moon was rising over the hills, so the darkness was not total. But this came with a trade-off, for the play of moonlight and shadows on the water tricked our eyes at times. We would think we were about to hit a tree stump or a boulder poking out of the water, and would paddle sharply to avoid it, causing the canoe to wobble dangerously, only to discover it had been a shadow. Or, the opposite would happen, with the same effect: We would mistake an actual obstruction for a shadow, only to discover our error when we were almost upon it, and, again, paddle sharply, causing the canoe to wobble dangerously. This confusion of our perceptions, of course, was worsened by the lingering effects of the mushrooms we had foolishly eaten earlier.

We rowed on in anxious silence. Sometimes a bullfrog would croak in the darkness, but otherwise the only sound was the splash of the oars.

And we would approach every bend of the river, hopeful that when we rounded it we would see the bridge. But every time we would be disappointed.

Finally, I said, "Are we ever going to reach that bridge?"

"It can't be much further," said Jim.

I hoped he was right, because it seemed to me that the longer we kept rowing in the dark, the greater was the probability that our luck would run out and we would tip over into the river.

At times, my anxiety was almost unbearable. I wished I could be anywhere but the river. But, of course, the only way to get off of it was to keep rowing, and rowing, and rowing.

The moon went behind a cloud, greatly reducing the moon's illumination.

A minute later, far ahead on the river bank, we saw the glow of a kerosene lantern behind trees, and heard voices echoing towards us …

(To be continued)