Summer's Heat and Sloth are the two main forces of nature that kept me from scooting over to a toy store to buy the new Ernie Pyle version of G.I. Joe.  He showed up in stores today in honor of the 58th anniversary of D-Day, a day which perhaps more than any other single day of the 20th Century stands out as pivotal in determining how you and I are living and what language we are sprechening.  There are arguments for other days, and the nominations are always open, but it may be difficult to be more romantically American with something other than June 6, 1944.

The Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962 has a day or two in there that qualify in a bye-bye-boom kind of way, but for decisiveness, heroism, sacrifice, and overall impact, my money's on 6/6/44.

I'm curious to see where the Ernie Pyle doll is made.  I expect China to be the site of manufacture, but wouldn't it be a terrible irony if it were made in Japan.  Mr. Pyle was shot by the Japanese on the island of Ie Shima in April of 1945.

All this brings up tangential questions that are hard to answer.  How does one reconcile feelings of animosity toward recent enemies?  Is it possible to blame a culture without blaming a people?  Politically and outwardly, yes.  But how would I feel if I'd been in a Japanese POW camp?  There are some people who cannot laugh at Springtime For Hitler.  What is the evolutionary function of memory?

Boy howdy, it's a good thing I don't have answers.

I'm content to sit here at my computer enjoying the spoils of war, which today include the freedom to publish this, and the option to use heat and sloth as the excuses for not riding my Vespa to the toy store.

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