statistics

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Morning.

With its belly low to the ground -- like a lion creeping up on some unwary gazelle -- the heat and humidity seep into the day once more.

Without air conditioning, I would be consigned to the status of a wet wash cloth ... limp, almost lifeless, and overwhelmed.

Out in the bread basket of the United States, farmers are looking at as much as a 50% loss of their corn crops ... that's how long the rain has held off at a time when fruition begs for water.

In Washington and on Wall Street, men are comfortable in their suits, untroubled by the infernos that afflict others. Gazelles are gazelles, after all, and you can't make an omelet without breaking eggs.

Stalin didn't say it, but still, "One death is a tragedy. A million deaths is a statistic."
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