My first impulse when I saw a picture of Richard Dawkins standing in front of a London bus emblazoned with an atheist ad--“ There’s probably no God. Now stop worrying and enjoy your life”—was to chuckle. My second was to skim through the article to see if he really had endorsed these words, which are an atheist response to the ads run by a Christian group.

 My spouse and I are in the process of joining a Boston church; the church requires that would-be members give their testimony. Because my memory is lousy these days, I wrote mine out; it’s pasted below with a few minor edits. Some of this material, though not all of it, will be familiar to anyone who read this blog last spring. Here it is:

I have an article in this week’s TWS. The link is here. The subject is the need for a policing “surge.”

There is a lot of talk these days about America’s, and the world’s, lurch to the political left.  Seems to me, that talk gets things backward. Given the massive public debt that Congress is creating, in the near future—that is, before Obama’s first term is over—the federal government will be forced to cut spending massively. Tax hikes are coming, and substantial ones, but taxes alone will not be able to pare down the deficit to reasonable levels. Government is expanding today. Soon, government will shrink. Obama’s Administration may usher in not a new New Deal, but an era of Coolidge-style austerity. Life is full of ironies.

Like just about every university, we recently had a  panel discussion about the financial crisis-- its apparent causes and possible implications.  The panel was moderated by the university president, Amy Gutmann, and I was one of five panelists.  For those who are interested, here is a link.  (For anyone who perseveres and actually watches, you'll notice that I'm at my best in the first ten minutes-- when I'm simply listening to the others, who know what they're talking about).

 This column perfectly captures my own sentiments—both the hope that the new Administration would succeed, and the growing concern that its confidence is misplaced.

 Every few months, the docs check my lungs and liver and assorted other places to see whether the cancer has returned. Today was my day to be filmed. Film days are usually easy, though sometimes unpleasant: I spent the minutes before heading to the radiology department ralphing in the parking lot. (I’ve always loved the verb “to ralph.” It’s a classic onomatopoeia. I wonder what the analogous term is in other languages—does it have the same sound? Weird the things I think about . . .)