Musings

Herding in this century

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The driver carefully urged these woolies down the road, then honked and moved left, and they went through the fence into a field, like a dirty-white living waterfall. Then he drove up a few more car lengths and left the van with a crook in his hand.

I wondered if he had an iPod in his pocket that I couldn’t see.

After all, the nice retiree from Columbus Oh Aitch that we met in Ragusa Ibla yesterday was listening to his nano before we started chatting—he’s been living in RI since retiring from the military fifteen years ago.