A Midsummer Night’s Dream

We had an idyllic evening tonight. Mrs. Rocket and I and our seven year old daughter went out to dinner, and afterward, as the sun went down, we played Crazy 8s on our deck. I lost, which confirms that Crazy 8s is, indeed, a game of chance. Bats–one of my favorite animals–swirled overhead, gobbling up mosquitoes. We drank beer as we played, and listened to Van Morrison on my iPod. As it grew dark, we played by candlelight, and the music was almost drowned out by the frogs in the pond. We live in an oak forest, and whenever we looked out into the woods, we could see fireflies darting among the trees. Now and then an airplane passed overhead, and occasionally a bottle rocket, left over from the 4th of July, went off nearby.
It was a perfect, lovely evening. It occurred to me, though, that there was hardly a single thing we did tonight that would be permitted by the Islamofascists if we lived under Sharia, as they intend. But that will not happen; no, not if we can help it.

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