PROTECTING GEORGE

We seem to be staying in a shack of some kind out in the wilderness. It is night. I am aware of wild animals in the vicinity and am somewhat alarmed. One of the mesh screens that covers a floor-to-celing window, perhaps a narrow French door, is missing and I squeeze out into the darkness. George is with me, on his leash. There are several large coyotes out here. I shout at one to chase him away, and he backs off, growling. A second stands his ground. George, of course, is going crazy, barking, straining at his leash... I pull him back, aware of the proximity of the wild animal that could easily attack. It's a stand-off...

That's my dream. How about the state of the AMERICAN DREAM?

I have been thinking about that half-billion dollar lottery. I agree with Robert Reich: it's a scam, "Given who plays," he writes, "this is one of the most regressive taxes in the nation." It's the only hope--and a sham one, at that--for the vast majority of our citizens to achieve that much-touted "American Dream." Which suggests, forgive my cynicism, that the "dream" itself is no more than a scam, the tantalizing promise of great riches when the odds are stacked massively against you. There's more chance, I hear, of being struck by lightning than of winning the jackpot. And those who can least afford it throw their meager dollars in the pot. Talk about cynicism!