APRIL 30, 2026 – Today while I was striding along toward the end of my daily walk, with both hiking poles now in one hand, I heard a neighbor call out. M. was out walking her aging canine friend and approaching the quiet intersection I’d just crossed. I acknowledged her greeting, and since I was as good as finished with my outing, I stopped to chat.
“Are you training for something?” she asked.
“Old age,” I said before quickly correcting myself. “Older age, I mean.” She laughed. Her old dog didn’t respond, because it didn’t care—or couldn’t hear.
- and I talked about the weather—how unseasonably cold it’s been—and I expressed worry about our water pipes at the Red Cabin, given that (a) the furnace quit some days before I’d last checked on the place 10 days ago; and (b) more overnight sub-freezing temps are forecast before I can make it back up to check on the place. That comment, in turn, prompted M. to mention that she and her husband also have a cabin over in Wisconsin, though much closer to home than the Red Cabin is. This disclosure led to mutual acknowledgment that “Once you cross the [St. Croix] River [the Minnesota/Wisconsin border], it gets pretty ‘Trumpy.’”
Then M. iced the cake: “Everyone is entitled to their opinion,” she said, “but the signs over there are so nasty. Why do they have to be that way?”
Inevitably, this remark opened the gate to more political commentary. I then mentioned that I’d watched a few minutes of Hegseth’s testimony this morning before the Senate Armed Services Committee. M. rolled her eyes.
“These people!” she said. “What is wrong with them? Hegseth, in particular—he’s so . . .so . . .”
“Arrogant,” I finished her sentence.
“Yes, arrogant. What I wonder is where did people like him grow up? I mean who were his parents? Where did he learn to be the way he is? I think there’s some bad karma going on there.”
The dog showed continuing indifference. Lucky dog, I thought. It’s not acquainted with human hubris, and provided its water bowl gets refreshed now and again and its food dish replenished daily, what other cares could weigh upon a dog’s life?
After returning to a more cheerful topic—how others in the neighborhood are doing—we started out in our separate routes back to our block.
“I’m a creature of habit,” I said, heading north on Albert.
Striding west on Iowa, M. said, “My walk goes faster if I go this way—there’s less to sniff out along a familiar route.”
We looked over our shoulders to exchange our farewells.
Along the last long block of my route, I revisited my impressions of Hegseth’s appearance before the Senate committee. Some of the questioning was adequate; some, pathetique; very little, effective, aside from Warren (re: betting on insider information) and Kelly (re: definition of war crime). None of the responses revealed when and how we’ll find the exit from this strategically disastrous war.
As far as I could discern, the Secretary of Defense is all hat and no cattle. Worse, he wields a rattlesnake for a whip and a bullsh_ _ horn for a voice. Having acknowledged in so many words that he would violate the Geneva Convention proscriptions against certain defined criminal acts, Hegseth has placed in peril our in-theater armed service personnel. As Senator Kelly stated, “that right there disqualifies [Hegseth] for the office he holds.
Hegseth’s evasive bluster was all a raw red meat show for his and his boss’s core constituency but was a giant cowpie for worldwide security and the global economy. Little among the needless wreckage of Trump II could stand out more vividly than the Administration’s rodeo clown show in the sands of Persian Petroland. In cheap comic-strip form it would be a barrel of laughs, if the only damage were a barrelman’s pride. In reality, the full accounting of “Operation Epic Hubris,” front to finish, will be no laughing matter.
Upon reaching our house, I hung up my spurs and thoughts about politics. It was time to think like M.’s old carefree dog; time for a sip from the water bowl and lunch from the replenished food dish.
Subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.
© 2026 by Eric Nilsson
