There will be no news hot off the presses from Kansas, in 1855 or otherwise, today. If you want some Civil war-related content, then you may find the breathtaking stupidity of certain self-appointed Southern Heritage Advocates amusing. It transpires that they looked up Abraham Lincoln in the returns for the 1860 census and discovered a woman unrelated to him or to Mary living in their home. Could this Mary Johnson have been a slave?
Well no. As it clearly says on the very page they produced, it tabulated only free people. The schedule of free persons thus clearly proves, by listing this free person in Lincoln’s household, that Abraham Lincoln was secretly a slaveholder and this fact has been suppressed for fifteen decades. I am not making this up. Al Mackey offers a reasonable interpretation of the affair here. Stupidity or malice? I lean more toward the former, but the two come together often enough.
Happier tidings, then.
Your author spent the time that he would have devoted to writing another Kansas post with a friend back from Oregon for the week. It’s only the third time since 2000 that we’ve seen each other. We spent the time in this foreign place, an uncharted, howling wild lit by an alien, unnatural ball of flame that floated in the sky. I think that its hateful light burned my tender flesh. Tiny creatures feasted upon my blood.
Slithering, loathsome things undulated in the grass. Signs warned us of them in lurid detail. I can only presume that some forgotten generation of explorers posted them. We saw none, but I have no doubt that for all our strange ordeal they lurked nearby. I suspect that my friend had dire intentions toward me, as she lured me off the marked trail -surely the remains of some ancient, lost civilization- to point out the odd flora.
This plant eats meat. Their petals form little cups that fill up with a substance that smells delicious to insects. The insects fly in and get stuck, where the plant happily digests them. Fascinating organisms, I must say. I apologize for my questionable photographic skills, but with thoughts of the slithering things in the grass I did not care to crouch down and get a really good picture. I fed the wildlife sufficiently upon my precious blood, thank you.