Our Bad Luck Is That Our Writing

Civilisation, The Orderly World In Which We Live, Is Frail. We Are Skating On Thin Ice. There Is A Fear Of A Collective Disaster. Terrorism, Genocide, Flu, Tsunamis.

Power, In A Nutshell, Is The Ability To Get Things Done, And Politics Is The Ability To Decide Which Things Need To Be Done.

You Cannot Have A Cake And Eat It Too. Either You Eat It, Or You Have It.

A Reliable Assurance Of The Right And Ability To Dismantle The Constructed Structure Must Be Offered, Before The Job Of Construction Starts In Earnest.

There Are, By The Most Conservative Counting, Two Grave And Deeply Regrettable Collateral Victims Of The Peer-review Gruesome Stratagem: One Is The Daring Of Thought (wished-washed To The Lowest Common Denominator), And The Other Is The Individuality, As Well As The Responsibility, Of Editors (those Seeking Shelter Behind The Anonymity Of "peers", But In Fact Dissolved In It, In Many Cases Without A Trace).