WASHINGTON
Across the United States, a heated debate has begun on the extremely complex issue of children firing military weapons.
"Every now and then, the nation debates an issue so complicated it defies easy answers," says pollster Davis Logsdon. "Letting small children fire automatic weapons is such an issue."

Logsdon says that the thorny controversy is reminiscent of another ongoing national debate, about whether it is a good idea to load a car with dynamite and drive it into a tree. "Many Americans think it's a terrible idea, but others believe that with the correct supervision, it's perfectly fine," he says. "Who's to say who's right?" Similar, he says, is the national debate about using a flamethrower indoors.

Much like the long-running debates about jumping off a roof, licking electrical sockets, and gargling with thumbtacks, the vexing question of whether children should fire military weapons does not appear headed for a swift resolution. "Like the issue of whether you should sneak up behind a bear and jab it with a hot poker, this won't be settled any time soon," he says.

In other news, GOP chief Reince Priebus ripped President Barack Obama today after he learned that the president had consumed three meals a day while on vacation in Martha's Vineyard. "With international crises boiling over in Iraq, Syria, and Ukraine, it's unconscionable that the president was having breakfast, lunch and dinner," he said.
Andy Borowitz, newyorker.com © Conde Nast
UP NEXT:PALMER (63) TOPS DEUTSCHE

Esto es mi traducción del primer párrafo de unas 40,000 palabras que escribió mi madre en sus últimos dos años. Trata de una caza de venados que hizo en Vermont con su padre a quien siempre llamaba con su nombre de pila, Tom.

Hacía frío durante aquel sábado en 1938. Yo estaba parada en una cresta mirando a mi padre en el barranco de abajo. Apenas podía ver su chaqueta a cuadros escoceses rojos y blancos mientras él trabajaba cortando las patas traseras del venado "ilegal". Yo ajusté mi rifle y miraba alrededor del bosque espeso buscando intrusos. Esto era mi trabajo. Yo tenía que disparar al ver a alguien. Yo tenía 16 años. En otra cresta al este estaba Dick Heinz vigilando también aunque casi no lo podía ver por los árboles. Yo estaba tiritando de frío. A mis pies podía ver las hojas dobladas de roble y arce de color café del otoño cada una llena de copos de nieve como sémola de harina  vertida en un tazón. Quería que Tom se apurara para terminar el trabajo. Oí un silbido grave. Dick abandonó su puesto para acudir al barranco y ayudar a Tom cargar las patas en el Chevy viejo. Yo me movía más lentamente ya que yo era la retaguardia y vigilaba el bosque aún más cuidadosamente. Al poco tiempo todos estábamos en el coche, suertudos esta vez con el venado cubierto de arpillera en el baúl. Nunca se me hubiera ocurrido en aquel entonces que eso fuera un papel raro para una muchacha de 16 años. Me consta que sabía que la mayoría de mis amigas no estaban marchando por el bosque con un Winchester 30-30 en las manos. Pero mi padre sabía que el número de venados era enorme y creía ridículo que no pudiéramos tener un poquito de carne gratis.

25. Poacher


It was cold that October Saturday in l938. I stood on a ridge looking down at my father in the gully below. I could barely see his red and white checked jacket as he worked, cutting the two hind haunches off the illegal deer. I shifted my rifle and looked around at the deep woods watching for any intruders. That was my job and I was to shoot off the rifle if I spotted anyone. I was l6 years old. On another ridge, to the East, Dick Heinz stood watchful as well, though I could barely spot him through the trees. I was shivering with cold. Down at my feet I could see curled up oak and maple leaves, fall-brown, each one filled with snowflakes like cream of wheat poured into a bowl. I was wishing Tom would hurry and get the job done, when I heard a low whistle. Then Dick left his post to hurry down and help Tom load up the hind quarters into the old Chevie. I moved more slowly, being the rear guard, and checked the woods even more closely. Soon we were all in the car, lucky this time, with the deer in the trunk covered with burlap. It never occurred to me at the time that this was an unusual occupation for a l6-year old girl. I'm sure I knew that most of my friends weren't tromping through the woods with a 30-30 Winchester in hand. But my father knew the deer population was huge and he thought it silly that we weren't supposed to have some free deer meat.