THE MYTH OF THE MISSING WHEEL

For a long time, it’s been widely assumed in the West that pre-Columbian civilizations were somehow intellectually inferior because they never developed the wheel. However, archaeological discoveries in Mexico tell a different story. Wheeled ceramic toys, some dating back centuries before European contact, clearly show that the concept of the wheel was known and understood.

These artifacts challenge the narrative that ancient American cultures were unaware of this fundamental innovation. So why wasn’t the wheel used for transportation? Scholars suggest the answer may lie in environmental factors, such as the absence of large draft animals and the rugged geography of much of the area. These findings serve as a reminder that technological progress isn’t always a universal path—and that assumptions about cultural advancement need to be reconsidered.

THE BREAKING POINT

I'm nearly beyond words in trying to describe the extent of my utter revulsion toward the U.S. government's unwavering, bipartisan support for Israel's brutal and genocidal campaign against the Palestinian people. Both Biden and Trump, along with the vast majority of Congress, those who blindly serve the interests of AIPAC, are complicit in this unrelenting atrocity. I view them as nothing less than corrupt war criminals, responsible for the continued suffering of countless innocent lives.

I haven’t always felt this way. My disillusionment with Washington didn’t arrive overnight; it crept in slowly, like a crack in a windshield, small and ignorable at first, until it spread beyond repair. I once held many elected officials in high esteem. Back in the 1990s, while working as a broadcast journalist, I considered it a mark of professional pride whenever I had the rare opportunity to interview a member of Congress or a U.S. Senator. There was still, then, a sense of honor in the idea of public service.

But that sense of respect has eroded, first gradually, then completely. The lies that led us into the Iraq War marked the beginning of that descent. As the years unfolded, scandal after scandal, indifference after inaction, my faith in American leadership thinned to a thread. And now, with the horrors unfolding in Gaza, that thread has finally snapped.

The breaking point came when Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, widely regarded as the driving force behind Israel’s ongoing campaign of ethnic cleansing, was welcomed to a nationally televised joint session of Congress. There, he was met not with protest or scrutiny, but with thunderous, repeated standing ovations. Applause echoed through the chamber, not for peace, not for diplomacy, but for genocide.

For me, it was the clearest signal yet that those who govern us no longer speak for human decency, let alone for me.

THE REEL THING

Back during my childhood daze in the mid-1960s, I had a gadget that felt like it came straight from the future: a portable Panasonic reel-to-reel tape recorder. To my young mind, it was the ultimate in cool. It wasn't close to state of the art, but it could capture and playback sound, a feat that I found utterly captivating.

Kids from my suburban St. Louis County neighborhood would drop by, and we'd transform my bedroom into a broadcast booth and do our best to simulate the legendary Cardinal play-by-play announcers at the time, Harry Caray and Jack Buck. With the help of a walkie-talkie's fuzzy static for a cheering crowd-noise generator, we recorded imaginary games from our imaginary broadcast booth.

I’m not sure what ever happened to that little recorder. It probably wound up getting tossed along with my baseball card collection when I left home to attend college. But the memories? Those remain. They’ve lasted far longer than any reel of magnetic tape ever could.

OUTRAGE MISPLACED

If one relied solely on the corporate, mainstream media for their news, they might come to believe that the only story worth following is the leak of military plans to a journalist. With pundits on cable news and attention-hungry politicians stoking endless outrage, it's easy to get swept up in the frenzy.

But I’d wager that for 99 percent of Americans beyond the political bubble, this story barely makes a ripple. What's truly disheartening, though, is the complete absence of outrage over what these leaked plans actually reveal: the further escalation of an unwinnable war against the already devastated, poverty-stricken nation of Yemen.

BEYOND COMPREHENSION

The sheer scale of the Universe is almost impossible for us to grasp. Imagine shrinking the entire Solar System to the size of a quarter—suddenly, the Milky Way galaxy would stretch out to cover the entire North American continent. And that's just one galaxy in a vast, unfathomable expanse of countless others scattered across unimaginable distances.

The enormity of it all deepens my belief in a higher power, something greater than ourselves. We are part of this immense Universe, and in this vastness, we've developed a consciousness that allows us to glimpse its wonders from our human perspective.

FOOTBALL'S WAR OF ATTRITION HAS MADE SPORT THE UNWATCHABLE

With each passing week of the football season, it feels like we're constantly hearing about players facing devastating, season-ending injuries. Just last night, during the Monday Night NFL matchup between the Ravens and Buccaneers, five players had to leave the field due to injury—some of them won't return for the rest of the season. It's reached the point where this kind of scenario happens in almost every game, and it's made me lose any desire to follow or support American football, whether it's at the high school, college, or professional level.

The surge in severe injuries has stripped the game of its integrity, transforming it into little more than a brutal war of attrition. Each week, teams are forced to rely more and more on second- and third-string players, especially as the seasons stretch longer and longer. Yes, other contact sports contend with injuries, but none on the same scale as football. The sport has become a modern-day gladiator arena, echoing the brutal competitions of ancient Rome.  

THE FIRST ROAR

It was sometime during the summer of 1964; I don't remember the exact date. The hometown St. Louis Cardinals were in the middle of one of the most fantastic pennant drives in baseball history. However, as a six-year-old kid, I was oblivious to this fact when I attended my first major league ball game. I barely knew the difference between a ball and a strike when my father took me and my older brothers to watch the Redbirds take on the New York Mets at OLD, OLD Busch Stadium (formerly known as Sportsman's Park).

This venue was where I first heard the ROAR. It happened while we were sitting in our general admission seats on the upper deck. The game at the time meant little to me as I was fixated mostly on the spectacle of seeing the largest mass of humanity I had ever seen gathered before my young eyes.

Then suddenly, cork...ROOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAARRRRR!!!!!!

Tens of thousands of people were standing and cheering loudly. The sound reminded me of the noise my toy walkie-talkie made when the volume on its static was turned all the way up. I looked at my Dad with a mix of surprise and puzzlement. He knew I didn't know what the hell was going on and told me, "The Cardinals just got a hit."

Over the years since that first game, I have become quite an avid, and I'd like to think, a knowledgeable fan of the Cardinals and the sport, in general. Now, I've heard that roar in the following years during many exciting and memorable moments at differing venues. However, none of those instances have equaled how the sensation felt when I experienced it for the first time.