Red Right Blog

Rants, Rates, Slags, Slates.

Manic-depressive posts from Red Wright-Hand. Because there are thousands of worthless blogs out there and who am I not to add to their number?

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Total US troop deaths in Iraq to date (09/01/07) since 03/20/03: 3739

From 05/02/03 through 06/28/04: 718

From 06/29/04 through 01/30/05: 579

From 01/31/05 through 12/14/05: 715

From 12/15/05 through 01/31/07: 933

From 02/01/07: 653

(Sources: US Dept. of Defense, Iraq Coalition Casualty Count)

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Monday, September 29, 2003
 
This sentence is like a great big hyperlink just waiting to get clicked.

An excerpt from David Foster Wallace's new book. I was about to link to some critical commentary on that excerpt from a professional mathematician, but something's happened to that link's host server, at least for now, so no go. Which is too bad, because it was pretty sharp. Anyway, what do you think? As much as I admire G.K. Chesterton (whose Father Brown stories aren't appreciated nearly enough, despite having been praised by Borges himself), his quote in Wallace's opening is of course total b.s. It's not exactly a secret that a significant number of prominent poets and other creative types had/have problems in the attic, often with genuinely tragic consequences; I happen to know of a few cases personally. Chesterton was a devout Catholic, and I think his remark is intended as an attack on rationalism, materialism, empirical methods and all that good stuff, and cannot be taken seriously as a commentary on imagination (or logic, either) per se.