Life, unless you're some kind of rubbish determinist, involves a series of free-will choices. For example, you can choose to attack the Islamist savages, ISIS. Or you can attack the regime that's fighting them by throwing missiles at their airfields. Your choice.
Likewise, you can sit staring at a computer in slack-jawed rightist consternation as our country slides closer and closer to war, or you can go fishing. I chose the latter option and loaded a couple of rods in the rig and headed to Soldier's Bluff.
The Texan wildflowers were out and I wondered if that was a good omen; Bluebonnets in flower, fish bite with power, sort of thing. But no, they didn't. The bites were sluggish and slurpy and I lost a lot of worms without closing the deal.
For the first time in months, no catch, and that was everyone else's experience there on the bluffs. Still, it was good to get out in the clean air by the lake, it always is. There's peace in it and, if the fish are behaving, excitement too.
Your Old Pal
There was another kind of excitement driving through a storm to Dallas later in the day. Lightning seared the horizon, like Tesla attempting to harness Satan, as rain crashed down onto I35. God's judgement on the metrosprawl.